Broken Angel
by kicksenselessmydefenses
Summary: Sam has always been fearless, never needing anything from anyone. Freddie knows everything about her- or does he? And when long-forgotten demons from Sam's painful past return to haunt her, can she find the strength to let Freddie in, or is she too far gone to allow anyone to save her? SEDDIE. Rated M for violent themes and mild language.  Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1:**_

_**I Don't Wanna Be Anything Other Than What I've Been Trying To Be Lately.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

I walked through the cool Seattle night, moonlight glinting off my blonde hair, and these stupid shoes I borrowed from Carly killing my feet with each step I took on the rain-kissed pavement. I was humiliated. And by who? GIBBY. Gibby, the person that I take great pains to torment and embarrass, had rejected me for the Girls' Choice dance. He already had plans with a girl. Let me repeat that: Gibby, short, spiky headed, often shirtless little nub, already had plans with a girl. And he turned me down. Me, Samantha Puckett, the girl whose name strikes fear and loathing into most hearts at Ridgeway. What has this world come to?

I know I can be intimidating, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be liked. If someone would just take the time to get to know me, maybe I could start to break down all these walls I'm so good at putting up. Maybe, I could see what it's actually like to be myself.

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't like to be all girly and vulnerable. It was just weird. All I wanted now was to enjoy a smoothie with my friends, and maybe have a little fun after the suckish night I'd had. I wouldn't even punch Freddie. Well… maybe I would, but not that hard. Occasionally, Momma is feeling in a giving mood.

I tossed my hair over my shoulders as I stepped up to the door of the Groovy Smoothie, and shivered a bit as I opened it and air came rushing out. I started to say hi to Carly and Fredweird, but as I took a step inside the shop, I saw it:

Freddie and Carly, embracing each other, her with her face snuggled against his chest, he with his newly muscular arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her glossy brown head. They swayed around, dancing. I just stood there agape, one hand still on the lapel of my coat from where I had started to take it off. Carly faced the wall, and thankfully couldn't see me. I craned my neck to get a better look at them. Carly's arms encircled Freddie, and his eyes were closed, a stupid smile playing across his irritatingly perfect mouth.

I stepped backward carefully, not allowing the heels of my shoes to make the slightest click on the black and white tiled floor. Drawing my coat back around myself tightly, I gently pushed the door back open, trying to keep the bells on it from clanging and signifying my presence, and ventured into the night. As the door closed behind me, I stomped off down the sidewalk, defiantly clomping my heels into the pavement. I paused for a second, looked back through the window. Carly and Freddie were still entwined, slowly moving around that one spot between the tables. All I could think was how much I wanted to—no. Just no. No no no.

I started off toward home, glaring at each passerby, and gradually walking faster and faster. I came to a crosswalk just as the light turned and had to wait. Normally I wouldn't care, but I didn't feel like trying to run across the street in these ridiculous shoes. I'd probably fall down and get run over by a truck. Maybe a ham truck. Wouldn't that be the best way to go, surrounded by piles of delicious ham?

As I paused, the wind blew, raising goosebumps on my arms, and I huddled inside my jacket that was too old, too small and too worn out to give me any sort of warmth on a night like this. I felt a drop of water hit my cheek. Great. It was going to start raining again, and not only I would get completely soaked, but I'd also ruin Carly's shoes. I looked up at the sky to see just how cloudy it was, and try to gauge how much time I had to get home before it started pouring. Strangely, the sky was clear. How weird. That never happens here.

Another drop of water tapped my cheek. There weren't any trees around that could be dripping on me. I was puzzled—where was this water coming from, and why was it warm?

Another drop. Another. I had to know what was happening. I reached up and swiped a finger across my cheek, then touched it carefully to the tip of my tongue, ready for any sort of gross thing that it could be. Momma isn't afraid of anything.

It was salty. I knew then that it wasn't rain. As the light finally turned, I hurried across the street and paused in front of a closed store to gaze at my reflection in the window.

I was a mess, to say the least. My hair was frizzy, my clothes wrinkled, my pathetic jacket slumped over me like a rag. I leaned closer, so I could better inspect myself. The eye makeup Carly had so carefully applied streaked down my cheeks like a black river, my eyes were puffy and red, and there was a new hitch in my breathing that I hadn't noticed before. I turned my back to the shop, arms crossed, and pressed one foot against the wall. I felt more and more drops trail down my face, which felt completely strange to me. I tried to stop what I knew was happening, but I just couldn't.

I can tell you exactly the last time I remember crying. I was eight. My twin sister, Melanie, was going off to boarding school. She hugged me and got on the train, waving to me sadly as it chugged away. I was little. Although I knew where she was going, the idea of boarding school was confusing to me. I thought my sister was leaving me, and never coming back. What was I going to do without her? I fingered the ham keychain in my pocket—she had used her allowance to buy it for me. I held that little ham and missed my sister and was afraid and young and alone and I couldn't handle it—I started bawling in the middle of the train station. My mother grabbed my arm and told me stop to making a scene, or I'd really get it when I got home. But I couldn't stop—my sister, my Melanie, with whom I shared not only my face, but also a real bond and connection—she was gone.

That was the last time I have ever cried. It was over someone I really loved and thought I lost, and it broke my heart. Later, when I realized she hadn't gone away for good, I scolded myself and swore to never cry over anything again. I didn't want my parents to have one more thing to yell at me about. I didn't want to show I had feelings. I wanted to be strong, and so I made myself that way. It was easier to pretend that I just didn't feel anything at all.

But here I was, standing on the sidewalk, looking awful and feeling even worse, crying. If I love you, like I love Melanie, I guess that's what happens, but if it's someone I hate, like Freddie, I'd put salad dressing in their shampoo bottle, or mail their cell phone to Cambodia or something.

My shoulders shook with sobs. _What _was I crying about? The nubs passing me by gave me weird looks and then hurried away.

I breathed in and out slowly, and my mind ground to a halt. Burned into my memory was the view of Fredwardo, dancing with Carly, eyes closed, and with that idiotic smile plastered across his face.

The sudden realization made me bolt upright and swipe at my eyes to get the streams of makeup off of my face. I slapped myself hard on the cheek, forcing the thoughts out of my head.

I turned away from the store and began walking again, continuing to head toward my house. Actually, I guess I was more powerwalking—arms flailing, chin held high, blonde curls flying out behind me, pushing my feet onto the ground with an unnecessary amount of force. I was horrified at myself.

If I ever thought about _him_ like that again, I was jumping off the Bushwell Plaza.

Sam Puckett is too tough, too strong, and too mean to love anyone.

And she doesn't need anyone to love her.

She is just fine on her own.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This fanfic is my much angstier version of how I think that the Sam/Freddie relationship should have happened, using the end of the episode "iSpeed Date" as a jumping off point. It is told in alternating viewpoints.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "I Don't Want To Be" by Gavin DeGraw.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2:**_

_**I Don't Think I'm Ever Gonna Figure It Out.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I broke away from Carly, ending our dance.

"Thank you for making my night at least a little bit enjoyable," I said, smiling.

"Back at you." She smiled. "It's almost ten. Shouldn't Sam be here by now? I wonder where she is." Almost as if on cue, her PearPhone pinged and she pulled it out of her pocket. "Speaking of Sam… she says Gibby… turned her down?" Her eyes widened. "Wow."

I laughed. "Gibby turned her down? What's happening to the world? I mean, I know she gives him teases him a lot, but still, I feel like he should be overjoyed at someone asking him out."

Carly shrugged her shoulders. "You would think so, wouldn't you? But apparently he wasn't. Still, I don't think she minds that much. It's not like she really _wanted _to go with him. I doubt she's heartbroken over it. It's not like they were, you know, like, _destined_ to end up together or anything."

I tried to make my eyes smolder like I'd seen in the movies. "What about you and me together?"

"Never gonna happen, Freddie," she replied, playfully punching me in the shoulder.

"Yeah, didn't think so," I laughed. "So, is she coming or not?"

Carly tapped on her phone. "I don't think so. Apparently her mom got her welfare check today and got her some Fat Cakes and a new container of ham. If I know anything about Sam, it's that she loves her food. I doubt she'll be going anywhere for while."

I laughed. It was so true. "You're probably right. Let's go."

A few days later, we were rehearsing for the show, like normal. Well, I shouldn't say normal- nothing with Sam and Carly involved is ever normal- but we practiced the different bits, and everything went pretty smoothly, without too many hitches.

When rehearsal was over, we were sitting around the kitchen like we always did, talking and eating spaghetti tacos. When Sam got up to get something, I asked her to get me another can of Peppy Cola. She rarely did me any favors, so I wasn't expecting this to be any exception, and I was actually starting to get up to get it myself when she did as I'd asked, handing me the soda on her way to sit back down. She didn't even bother to open it and spit in it. That was weird. She loved doing that. I studied her, trying to see if she was masking a smile that would give away whether or not she'd actually done something to my drink that I just hadn't seen. But as I carefully watched her, trying to pick out any impishness in her expression, I noticed that her face was actually strangely devoid of any emotion. My eyes wandered to her plate. I saw that it was nearly full. She had barely even picked at it. As Carly and Spencer chatted to each other, I continued to observe Sam. She wasn't saying much of anything, just keeping to herself, twirling a stray curl around her finger and pushing her food around her plate. I could tell that something was up with her.

Suddenly, Spencer dragged Carly off to get the fire extinguisher- somehow the pan full of spaghetti had burst into flames. As they were preoccupied with putting it out, I tapped Sam on the arm.

"Sam."

She looked up, her previously blank blue eyes suddenly filled with irritation. "What do you want, Freddifer?"

"It's just- I couldn't help but notice that you've barely eaten anything. You haven't said one mean thing to me all night. You didn't even tamper with my beverage. Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired," she sighed, fiddling with her fork. "And I'm not hungry."

"You're not hungry?" I scoffed a little. "Sam, I have known you for years, and I've never seen you turn down food or a chance to mess with me before. Why is tonight different? Is something wrong?"

She looked up from her plate to stare me down with steely eyes. "There's a first time for everything. I'm fine. Stop worrying or you'll get a rash. Should I ask your mother to give you a bath and ointment tonight?"

I shuddered at the thought of that. "No."

"Who knew that spaghetti would be flammable?" Spencer shouted.

Sam just ignored him, oblivious to the rising flames behind her, and pulled on her big old grey hoodie, carefully tugging her long hair out from under the collar. "Bye Carls, I'll see you tomorrow!"she called. She faced me as she turned to leave, and for a moment I thought she was going to punch me. I almost hoped that she would; she was acting entirely too strange. It seemed like she was going to say something to me, like there was something on the tip of her tongue, but the blank look faded back over her face as she shoved her hands deep into her pockets and headed toward the door. "Bye, Freddie."

It wasn't until after she left that I realized that, for the first time in a long, long time, she had called me by my real name.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This chapter is named after a lyric from the song "I Don't Think I'm Ever Gonna Figure It Out" by Elliott Smith.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3:**_

_**You Don't Know What I'm Feeling.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

I headed down the sidewalk to the bus stop, the breeze lifting my hair away from my face. It felt good, like I could finally think clearly. I was such a mess lately, and I hated it. I didn't like feeling out of control.

The bus came roaring to the curb just as I reached the stop, spraying me with dirty water left in the gutter from yet another day of rain. Normally, that would irritate the crap out of me, but I was so out of it that I barely noticed. I climbed the steps, dropped my money in, and sat in my usual seat, cupping my chin in my hand and staring past my reflection in the window to the world outside. It was the same bus stop. Same skeevy guy hanging out in front of the little market. Same Groovy Smoothie. All of it was exactly the same, but I felt different, and I hated it. I hated how I couldn't speak in front of Freddison, hated not being able to talk to Carly about it, hated the constant churning in my stomach, and I mostly hated myself for letting this happen. This wasn't like me at all.

Most people enjoy being alone. It comforts them somehow. Me, I never liked being alone. Even on this short bus ride home I didn't like it. Shocking, right? The girl who likes hurting and teasing and bullying others and scaring them off so much doesn't like to be alone. That's the reason I spend so much time at Carly's. Since I'll never have one of my own, it's nice to see what a normal family might be like, even though calling what Carly and Spencer have 'normal' is a huge stretch.

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt, aggressively throwing me forward into the seat in front of me and snapping me back into reality. I shook my head, hard, as if I could shake all of my thoughts right out of my brain. I had to learn to stop thinking so much! I walked off the bus into the dim evening light, then down the gravel road to my house.

After carefully climbing the crumbling steps, I shoved my key in the lock and opened the door. As always, it was a complete mess. Food wrappers, empty alcohol bottles- pretty much just trash everywhere.

"Mom?" I called. I shut and locked the door, pulled off my hoodie and tossed it onto the ripped recliner. "Mom, are you here?" I walked down the hallway, wading carefully through the piles of garbage until I finally found my mom in her room.

You should know that Pam Puckett has never had the greatest luck in the motherhood department, and she doesn't even have the excuse of saying that her intentions are good. She never cared about me as a child, always turning a blind eye to me, and she didn't quit doing that even after my father got sent to prison for what he did. I think she still blames me for that, even though deep down I guess I know that it wasn't my fault. I was never good enough to please her, so eventually I just stopped trying. It was easier for me, and that way Melanie got some attention, like I'd always known she needed. I was definitely the dominant twin. I didn't need as much as she did.

My mom sat slouched in her computer chair, eating chow mein from a greasy cardboard box. I peered into the bag beside her to see if she had any more. As usual, she had completely forgotten to feed me. Carly and Freddie always tease me about how much I eat when I'm over at the Shays', but they don't realize just how little food I get at home. Usually, all I'm given for the week is a container of ham, a box of Fat Cakes and a few cans of Peppy Cola.

My stomach rumbled. I suddenly wished I had eaten my spaghetti tacos at Carly's while I had the chance. Oh well. I'd just steal Gibby's lunch money tomorrow or something. Momma's gotta eat, and she has a score to settle with that nub.

"Sam, stop hovering in the doorway. Either come inside, or go to your room." She viciously dug her chopsticks into the box, and I carefully tiptoed into the room, hoping that, by some miracle, my mom would be in a good enough mood to talk to me, and maybe even give me some advice on what I should. But as I entered, I saw the all-too-familiar mask of irritation on her face, and I knew that this wasn't going to be a good conversation.

"Oh, god," she sighed. She clearly hadn't expected me to actually come inside. "What do you want? Your ham had better not be gone already. It's only Tuesday, and you know you don't get anymore until Saturday."

"It's not," I whispered, fighting to keep my voice steady. I could feel my muscles starting to tense up with anticipation of being yelled at. "I still have some left."

"For your sake, I hope you're right." She turned away and slurped a few more noodles. She glanced back up, and seemed surprised to see that I was still there. "Jesus, Sam, you're like the plague. Just tell me what you want and then go away!" She finally really looked at my face and saw my pained expression. "What's wrong with your face? It's all pinched looking or something. Are you sick? If you're sick, get away from me! I don't want to catch your disease. My new boyfriend and I are going to see the monster trucks this weekend." She went back to her take out. I didn't know whether to move, or to stay and try and talk to her. Seconds later, the question was answered for me. "I thought I told you to get your sick ass out of here!"

I got up and left, going to my room across the hall and shutting the door. I changed into a grey tank top and basketball shorts, leaving my outfit from the day piled on the bare wooden floor. Even though it was only nine o' clock, I was exhausted, so I turned off the light and crawled under my worn covers, curling into a ball so I wouldn't disturb Frothy, who was stretched out along the foot of the bed.

As was usually the case at night, all of the feelings I had tried so hard to fight away all day came flooding back, and I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. I closed my eyes, hoping to fall peacefully asleep, but all that was in my mind was the image of Freddie and Carly from that night in the Groovy Smoothie, being closer than I had ever seen them. Then I remembered how concerned Freddie had been at the Shays', asking me if I was okay and seeming to truly want to know the answer, but I had pushed him away like the jerk I always am. And then my own mother couldn't even pull her face out of her damned Chinese food long enough to talk to me.

I tried not to whimper as I felt tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks, making a damp spot in my hair.

I didn't know how much longer I could do this.

I may be strong and mean and cruel, but, on the inside, I'm just a sad little girl stuck with memories of a painful childhood, trapped in that moment of sorrow at the train station, forever unable to let anyone in.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Listen" from Dreamgirls.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4:**_

_**Maybe I Should Keep This To Myself.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

Sunlight was streaming through the broken shade on my bedroom window, so bright that it felt like it was slapping me in the face. I could hear the irritating, cheerful song of birds outside. I grunted and pulled a pillow over my head to block out the sun and noise. I was so tired. I didn't want to be awake yet.

Just as I was starting to drift back off to sleep, my phone starting ringing. Shrilly. Even my pillow fortress couldn't block it out. Sighing, I tossed the pillow onto my wooden floor and sat up. I rubbed my fists over my eyes and yawned as I picked up my phone.

"Hello?" My voice sounded thick. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hello?"

"Sam!" Carly chirped. "Where are you? We're supposed to help Spencer with his new sculpture today, remember? The customer is coming to pick it up tomorrow, and he hasn't even started it yet, plus we have to pick up a new fire extinguisher before he starts. The fire department sent us a letter telling us that they won't come back to our apartment for the next year because Spencer is 'depleting' their resources."

I smiled. "It's because your brother somehow miraculously manages to set things on fire. Like that water! Remember that?"

"Yeah. Freddie spent about a week trying to figure out how he did that. I guess he just has the magic touch. Anyway, are you coming? He really needs to get this thing done."

"Yeah, I'll be there soon."

"Okay!"

I flipped my phone shut and shuffled over to my beaten dresser, rooting through the open drawers until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a Penny Tee that only had one barbecue sauce stain on it. I pulled them on and grabbed my key. As I walked out of the room, I peeked across the hall to see if my mom was there. She wasn't. Not surprising. I continued down the hall into the kitchen, where I found a note on the sticky table.

"Sam," I read aloud. "Going out of the country for a few days to get some Botox, then I'm spending some time with my boyfriend. Don't know when I'll be back. I left some more ham in the fridge. Go to Carly's for anything else. Don't call me or disturb me with any of your crap. Mom."

I sighed. My mom left me all the time. I didn't mind, really, because I was going to be ignored either way. It just- and I cannot believe I'm saying this- it made me feel... weird, I guess, when I saw Carly and Spencer together, talking about their problems and giving each other advice. I don't have anything like that. My dad is out of the picture, my mom couldn't care less, Melanie is always studying and Carly is so sheltered that she rarely knows how to help. But after everything that had happened in the last couple of days, I had to admit that talking to someone was exactly what I needed. I just couldn't. I didn't have anyone.

Or maybe I did.

Freddie had tried. Freddie had talked to me last night, trying to get me to open up to him. It was the first time that I could remember anyone ever seeming to really want to help me. And what had I done? I had pushed him away, like I do everyone else. But it wasn't just that- he wasn't like everyone else. How could I talk to him, when he was my very problem?

I checked myself. I couldn't keep thinking about things like that, or I'd go all soft. I ran my fingers through my hair, breaking up a wad of curls that had become entangled in my sleep. Patting Frothy, I headed out the door.

As I came to the bus stop, I pulled my phone out my pocket to see if I had enough time to get a Fat Cake and a smoothie before I went to Carly's. Before I could look at the clock, though, I noticed something on the screen:

"1 New Message

From: Fredweird"

I got on the bus, settled in my seat, and clicked the message open. Freddie never texted me. This was so weird. What could he possibly want?

"Sam, I know you hate me, and you're gonna want to rip me apart when you read this, but I had to say something. You may be a good actress, but you are a horrible liar. I know something's wrong. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm always here. I know you have Carly, but you have me, too. Anytime."

My heart was pounding in my ears and I couldn't seem to breathe. How could he possibly know all that? I never thought he'd be so perceptive. He spent so much time with his head shoved in a damned camera or computer that I never expected him to... say that. Be so sweet...

I started to type out a reply. "Freddie, you're right, I'm-"

Wait. No. Bad. Bad Sam. What was I doing?

I quickly deleted what I'd typed and started again: "Fredward, don't get yourself into a tizzy. I'm fine. I was just tired. And if you ever send me something that sappy again, I'm signing you up for the Campfire Girls." Send. Phone in pocket.

As soon as I pressed that button, I regretted it. He'd tried to help me again, even after I'd completely brushed him off. Maybe he really did care about me. I needed to text him back, I needed to make him understand-

The phone was back out, my thumb hovering over the keys.

No. I couldn't. I made a promise. I had to be strong.

I didn't owe him an explanation, and I didn't need his help.

This was going to pass, right? I'd be myself again soon, and everything would be okay.

At least, I hoped it would.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Fallin' For You" by Colbie Caillat.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5:**_

_**Even Though I Know What's Wrong, How Can I Be So Sure If You Never Say What You Feel?**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I knew that Sam was acting weird, even for her, a girl whose sanity could be seriously questioned at pretty much any time of the day. Something was bothering her. Something was wrong.

And, for some strange reason I couldn't even begin to understand, I cared. I was worried about her, and I wanted to help. How insane is that? I wanted to help the person who done nothing but belittle and torture me for so long. I didn't even know why, exactly, it was just- that night at Carly's, her face- I had never seen her look like that before. Never.

I guess I should explain. What you need to know is, Sam might not have the largest or deepest range of emotions, but it's not like she doesn't have one at all. Hers is just buried deeper than other people's, and you have to know where to look. Luckily, I do: you can tell a lot about a person by their eyes, and Sam's are the easiest to read that I've ever seen. Like, when she's happy? Her eyes are at their biggest, full of joy and a bright, cerulean color. She's angry? They get narrow, almost the size of slits, a stormy shade of navy. But that's all I know, really. I can't tell you what they look like when she's sad, because I've never seen her that way before. I do know, though, that that night in Carly's kitchen, her eyes definitely did not match either of her normal moods. She looked tired, but I know for a fact that she wasn't. She couldn't be- she had napped through most of iCarly practice. Her eyes were a color I'd never seen them before: they were a darker shade of blue, but kind of clouded over looking, like she was far away, and, wherever she was, it wasn't a place she wanted to be. I know it sounds silly to read this deeply into something as seemingly minor as eyes, but with Sam, there just really isn't anywhere else to look. The only emotion I've ever seen her show consistently is anger. She never really talks about how she's feeling, unless she's mad, and even then she just spits out incoherent streams of words soaked with rage until she calms down enough to actually talk about it. I've never really known her to mention anything about sadness, hurt, disappointment, or loneliness. I guess I just figured that it was almost as if she didn't have the capability to feel those things. But, when I saw her eyes that night, I suddenly knew, beyond a doubt, that she did.

Honestly, the realization kind of scared me. We fought so much, constantly picking on each other, that it never really occurred to me to think of her as a person. It sounds awful, but it's true. The only perception of her that I'd ever had was of a hungry, angry, rude thing that I had to put up with in order to be friends with Carly. I'm so ashamed- after all, she's a human being. She needed to be treated like one, with the care and respect she deserves, and with all of the courtesy I had ever shown to any other girl. That deep pain in her face made me understand that, just because she always acts a certain way, that doesn't necessarily mean that that is who she is.

I had woken up from a fitful night's sleep and kept turning all of this over in my mind, unable to keep sleeping even though it was incredibly early. I lay on the couch, wrestling with the uncomfortable feeling of guilt that had settled into the pit of my stomach. I knew I wouldn't able to live with myself if I didn't find some way to reach out to her. On a whim, I pulled out my PearPhone and typed her a quick text. There. Conscience cleared.

About half an hour later, while I had given up on sleep completely and was making myself some breakfast, my phone went off. I unlocked it, and saw that I had a new message from Sam. I clicked it open and read it. As I had expected, she tore into me, mocking me, making me feel like an absolute idiot. I sighed and tossed my phone on the counter before busying myself with cracking eggs for an omelette. I was such a nub. I didn't even know why I bothered trying. Even so, the guilt in the pit of my stomach stayed there all day, as much as I tried to ignore it. I knew I had to try a different approach.

So, during the show that night, in between bits when the camera wasn't on her, I studied her again and again. She kept crossing her arms tightly across her chest, like she was trying to protect herself from something. It also seemed like she was intentionally avoiding looking at me. I was about to just give up and go straight home after the show, but then, it came: a lightbulb blew, and she jumped and looked up to see what the noise was. As she gazed around the studio, searching for the source of the noise, we locked eyes. Even from a distance, I could see that they were still that same shade of deep, cloudy blue. I smiled at her, hoping to get one in return, or even a glare, just to know that everything was cool. I got neither. She just cleared her throat and turned away.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Fix A Heart" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6:**_

_**Could This Really Be A Safe Place To Fall?**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

Thankfully, the lightbulb that had blown wasn't one that played a very important role in the show, so we were able to keep going. As we did, I couldn't help but notice that Freddie could hardly keep his eyes off me. I avoided every glance as best I could, trying my hardest to not make eye contact with him. Still, though, he kept staring at me. It was weird.

We finished the webshow, then went downstairs to get some food, like we always did. As we plowed through pizza and Peppy Cola, I laughed along and made sarcastic comments when necessary to keep everyone from noticing that I was drowning in my thoughts, analyzing the chiz out of what had just happened:

He had smiled at me.

I make his life a living hell on a daily basis, and he smiled at me.

I think that maybe, just maybe, I can admit that I... I...

He shot me another grin when Carly wasn't looking. I turned away and stared into my pizza, allowing myself to sink back into my thoughts-

I like him. I do.

_Oh my God, I like Freddie._

Finally admitting it caused an immediate feeling of discomfort in my chest, like I was choking on the truth. I hadn't said how I felt for so long that it actually hurt me when I was honest with myself.

You have to understand- I've never really liked or loved anyone before. At least, not anyone other than my sister, and maybe Carly. I would have never thought that I was capable of having actual feelings toward a guy. I mean, sure, I've been on dates, but I went on those more for the promise of free food than the hope of making any sort of connection. I know that growing up with my family like I did, seeing my parents and their relationship gave me a warped sense of things. Ever since I was little, I've been- and I can't believe I'm saying this- I've been afraid of feeling anything. I was so used to getting punished for it as a child that I guess I just didn't want to be vulnerable anymore.

I'm so used to being in control. When I was a kid, everything that was going on, all the shit that my parents put me and Melanie through- those things weren't something I had any say in, at all. I couldn't control what happened to me physically, so I compromised by controlling everything else: my feelings, my actions, other people. It was the only thing I knew how to do.

But now, in Spencer and Carly's kitchen, this sudden realization of my feelings for Freddie slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I felt like I was in a war zone, and I didn't have my bulletproof vest on. I was terrified. I couldn't think. I sat at the counter, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to control my breathing, feeling that vulnerability that I had fought away for the past ten years. I was seventeen years old, but I felt like a child, scared and alone and not knowing what was going to happen.

"Sam?" Carly called, waving her hand in front of my face. "Sam!"

I jumped, nearly knocking my can of soda over. "What?"

"You're like a million miles away, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just thinking about meat."

Carly looked satisfied with this, but over her shoulder I saw Freddie, shaking his head. Damn him! I had always known that he was booksmart, but I would have never expected him to be that damn perceptive.

Carly stood up. "I'm making a run to the Groovy Smoothie, do you want anything?"

"Yeah, get me a blueberry blitz," I replied.

"Okay. Got it. Freddie? Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine," he murmured.

"Okay." Carly pulled her coat on. "Did you guys want to come, or do you just want to wait here?"

"Wait here." We both said it in unison, then locked eyes with each other.

Carly, completely oblivious to the tension between us, flitted toward the door. "Okay! I'll be right back!"

Right after she left the apartment, Spencer's phone rang, and he fled the apartment too, screaming something about his friend Socko's grandmother having a fiesta and giving away sombreros.

With him gone, Freddie sidled up to me, hands stuck in his pockets.

"Sam?"

"What?" I focused on carefully shredding the leftover crust of my pizza between my fingers, willing my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to even out.

"Look, don't get mad, okay? It's just... I know something is bothering you. And I know you're not the kind of person to ask for help, but, please, just let me in."

"Nothing is wrong, Fredward. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Like I said in my text, you're a terrible liar. You start twisting that curl on the left side of your head when you're lying," He reached up, gently tugged my hand from my hair. I hadn't even realized I was doing that. The mangled crust lay on my plate, forgotten. "And your eyes are doing that cloudy thing they've been doing lately. I've never seen them look like that before..." Wait, how the _hell_ did he notice that? The only other person to ever notice that was Melanie, because her eyes did exactly the same thing. "...and you're being all quiet, and you aren't eating as much lately, and I honestly can't even recall the last time you hit me. Whatever it is, Sam, I promise I won't tell anyone, no matter what, not even Carly. I just..." he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I- I know I don't show it, but I really do care about you. Just let me-"

My heart was pounding. I knew what I had to do.

I didn't let him finish.

Instead, I stood up, gently placed a hand on either side of his face, and I kissed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Lightweight" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7:**_

_**I Don't Know How, And I Don't Know Why.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I had just been standing there beside her, leaning up against the counter, trying to reach out and offer her some support and comfort in the best way I knew how, and then, out of nowhere... bam.

She had one hand resting on the back of my neck, the other gently fiddling with my hair, our lips meeting in a way that they had once before, but that had been business; that had been two scared kids wanting to get their first kiss over and done with, and this was- well, I didn't know what this was, or why it was even happening, but I realized didn't care. All I knew was that I didn't want it to end.

I realized that I was still standing in a weird, half-leaning position left over from when I had been talking to her, so I straightened up and reached out to lightly rest my hands on Sam's waist, and she leaned in as I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. She wound her arms around my neck and pulled me closer, deepening our kiss. I closed my eyes, wanting to savor every moment. She was warm. Her blonde curls fell down her back to tickle my fingertips as I held her, and her lips tasted like the cotton candy Lip Smacker she always had in her pocket.

But then, just as quickly and suddenly as it started... it stopped. She pulled away from me ever so slightly, enough to look me in the eye, but not so much that we weren't still wrapped around each other. Her eyes were wide, bright. I smiled a little. I knew what that meant.

"I don't hate you, Freddie," she mumbled, resting her forehead against mine. I could feel the vibrations of her voice against my lips. "Actually I- I think I- I kinda love you?" Her voice went up at the end in a squeak, making it seem like a question rather than a statement.

I opened my mouth to speak-

But before I could say anything, she seemed to come out of a sort of trance and realize what had just happened. She broke away so fast I didn't even have a chance to try and stop her. Suddenly, she was several feet away, blushing- I had never seen her blush before- and furiously raking a hand through her blonde curls.

I stood frozen for a moment, my arms still extended, holding the shape of a girl that was no longer there. I finally found my voice and stepped toward her. "Sam, I-"

She bit her lip and cast her cloudy blue eyes down toward the floor. "You don't have to say anything, Freddie," she sighed, plunging her hands in her pockets.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. Now, as I looked at her, it was like I had never really seen her before. If I had thought that what I'd felt on the fire escape that day was a spark, this was a raging flame. I was noticing all these new things about her, like how she had just one dimple, in her left cheek; how smooth her skin was; the very faint freckles sprinkled down her nose; how her golden hair gleamed in the light. She was beautiful. No, she wasn't just beautiful; she was positively _radiant_.

I was speechless.

"I- I..." I was trying so hard to speak, but all I could do was stammer.

Her eyes faded into back into that dismal blue, and she looked down at the carpet. She was clearly embarrassed. "It's okay, Freddie," she whispered, biting her lip. "Message heard loud and clear."

Oh no. She thought I didn't... oh no. Dammit! Find your voice Freddie, find it, be a man!

"Sam, I-"

"It's fine. Let's just forget this ever happened, okay?" With that, she crossed her arms, and I was surprised to see a single tear slide down her cheek as she turned away and walked quietly out of the apartment, gently closing the door behind her.

I just stood there like an idiot, mouth hanging open. I could still taste her lips and feel the warmth of her body against mine. My head was screaming out the words I hadn't been able to speak:

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Briane" by Boyce Avenue.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8:**_

_**It Must've Been Something; Sent Me Out Of My Head.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

I dashed out of Carly's apartment, jetted down the stairs, and ran out of the Bushwell Plaza as fast as I could, ignoring Lewbert's screeches of something I couldn't understand as I passed his desk. As soon as I got to the sidewalk, I slowed my pace, and walked a couple of blocks until I found a bench. I collapsed onto it, cradling my head in my shaky hands, my thoughts racing and my mind reeling.

God, I had crossed so many lines here- I had done so many things that I never, in a million years, would have ever believed that I would do. First off, I had completely shot to hell ten miserable years of keeping my promise, of guarding myself. Secondly, I had kissed Freddie- _Freddie_, of all people, tech stooge, geek, irritating little nub that I had started teasing the day I'd met him. And on top of all of that, I had told him I loved him! He had weaseled his way into a crack in my armor, forcing me to let my guard down. I had never dreamed of being so open with anyone, least of all him. And then, after making an absolute fool of myself, I had just run away. Literally.

I stood back up, trembling. I could feel tears pricking in the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously, biting my lip. I had already done enough damage tonight. No way was I going to cry, too. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started shuffling down the sidewalk. I wasn't really sure of where I was going, or if I was going anywhere at all. All I knew was that I just needed to get as far away from Carly's as possible.

I shivered. I didn't have a jacket, and it was pretty cold outside. After another block, I heard a faint rumble in the distance: more rain was on the way. Fantastic. All I had on was a short sleeved shirt, jeans, and Converse, none of which would do anything to protect me from the upcoming downpour. I could walk home, I thought, but I quickly dismissed that. It was too far, plus I didn't want to have my mom scream at me for messing up my clothes, which she undoubtedly would, even though it wasn't my fault. I swear, sometimes I think she just looks for things to get mad at me for, like her own little twisted way of punishing me for what had happened all those years ago. I scoffed and kept walking. Like I didn't already find plenty of ways to punish myself.

I shivered again in the cold night, crossing my arms to try and brace myself against the breeze. Going back to Carly's was out of the question, and I didn't have enough money for the bus; Spencer was supposed to have taken me home. I found another bench and sat on it, hugging my knees to my chest. What to do, what to do. It was getting kind of late, and there weren't many stores around that I could go into to wait out the storm. I hated living in Seattle sometimes- you wouldn't believe how often I got caught in the rain.

So, I just sat on my bench, letting my thoughts swirl around me. I was so ashamed of myself- partly for only thinking of myself, like I always do, selfishly putting Freddie in that situation, where he was so horrified he couldn't even manage to say anything, and partly for running away. All I ever did was run away. I couldn't handle anything.

_You are pathetic, Samantha Puckett, _a little voice whispered in the back of my mind. I clamped my hands over my ears, but still it came. _You are a pathetic little girl, and you can try and put up walls to hide behind all you want, but it doesn't work, and now Freddie knows it, too. You aren't strong. You are indecisive. You are immature. You are nothing. _

Nothing.

I buried my face in my knees and cried. I knew that the thoughts running rampant in my mind were all legitimate. I was completely worthless, unlovable, and I deserved to be alone. No one would ever want damaged goods.

As I cried, it finally started to rain. The cold drops were falling hard and fast, assaulting me, almost as if they were trying to drill right into my skin and make the truth of everything I was thinking even more painfully clear.

I sat there for what felt like hours, cold, wet, hurting, and deserving every bit of it. What was I thinking, kissing Freddie like that? Who did I think I was? I'd never be good enough for anyone, least of all him.

I huddled on my bench, shivering, wallowing in my misery. The sound of a car rumbling to a stop on the street in front of me made me prick up my ears a little, but I didn't bother to look up or stand. I knew that no one would be looking for me.

The car door slammed and I heard the automatic locks click into place. Footsteps started to approach me, getting closer and closer and then-

All of a sudden, I wasn't getting rained on anymore. It was strange, because I could still hear it coming down all around me, but no more drops were making contact with my saturated clothing.

"Sam," a voice began, "Come on. Get in the car and I'll drive you home. Please, just let me do this."

I looked up, confused. In front of me stood Fredweird, in his yellow rain slicker, holding an umbrella over my head. At first I thought I saw concern in his eyes, but I quickly dismissed it. Good one, Sam, like anyone would ever be worried about you.

"Freddie," I grunted, "I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

"I am not going to leave you here to catch pneumonia. Just get in the car."

I set my jaw, gritted my teeth and glared at him. "No." I hissed.

"Sam-"

"No!"

"You leave me no choice, then," he sighed, closing the umbrella. He jogged back to his car, unlocked and opened the door. Good, I thought, he's leaving. But my relief was short-lived; instead, he slammed the door, and came back, without the umbrella. What the- What was he doing?

"I said leave me alone!" I shrieked.

"And I said no. For someone with as much stubbornness as you, you sure don't seem to recognize it in other people. One last chance. Get in the car." He crossed his arms and glared at me.

"One last time: leave me the hell alone."

"I guess we'll have to do this the hard way, then."

Before I knew what was happening, he bent down and picked me up, swinging me up off the bench.

"Put me down, you nub! What are you doing?" I fought against him but he held me close, adjusting my weight in his arms and beginning to walk to the car.

"Let me go!" I whined again.

He looked down at me from underneath the hood of his stupid yellow rain jacket. "I'm not letting you go anywhere. At least, not until we talk about tonight."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "These Four Walls" by Miley Cyrus.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9:**_

_**She Just Needs Someone To Take Her Home.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

After settling Sam in the front seat beside me, I drove slowly through the streets of Seattle, looking for a place to park. I had no intention of taking her home right away; we had to talk about everything. I knew my mom would be worried about me, and that this little excursion was definitely going to earn me a lecture, if not a decontamination bath, but my mom didn't matter right now. All that mattered was Sam.

Speaking of Sam, she hadn't said a single word since I'd put her in the car. She just curled up against the door, as if she was trying to be as far away from me as possible. Every once in awhile, I'd glance over at her for a second, and every last time I found her glaring at me, navy eyes glinting and her Cupid's bow mouth pressed into a firm line. I didn't mind; anger was something I was used to seeing from her. This time, though, it took almost every fiber of my being to not laugh; she just looked like an oxymoron personified. Her hard, unfeeling face more closely matched that of a Navy SEAL than a teenage girl. She was soaking wet, hair frizzed out around her stony face like a golden halo, clothes sticking to her porcelain skin, and she was pressing her tiny body up against her door with all of her strength.

I slowed down and came to a stop at a red light, and looked over at her again. I half expected her to open the door and make a break for it. She didn't. I glanced over her face, looking her up and down, and again noticed the way she was sitting. Even if she didn't want to be near me, she could at least act like my presence didn't repulse her, she could at least sit like a normal person. She was so frustrating! All I was trying to do was talk to her and help her, but she was so headstrong she wouldn't let me. It was incredibly irritating. I was seething inside when I saw her adjust her position a little bit; she turned ever so slightly, further away from me, crushing herself up against the dashboard.

Oh.

I felt a wave of shame wash over me. I had been so wrapped up in my silent anger that I hadn't even noticed what she was really doing: she was trying to get close to the air vent. She was cold, and she was only sitting like that so that she could get warm. It was heartbreaking. She looked like a little girl lost on a playground; tired, sad, afraid, wet, and cold, but not about to admit how she was feeling, because she didn't want to be thought of as weak.

Wow, Fredward, you really are an ass.

The light turned green, and I stomped on the gas, driving down the street toward town. As I drove, I could hear her teeth clicking together. She was shivering. She had to be freezing. When I was sure she wasn't looking, I casually reached down and flicked the heat up to a higher temperature, and turned the dial so that more air came out. After a few minutes, she relaxed the death grip she had on her knees, her breath evened out and the shivering stopped. She reached over and flicked the heat back down. Crap. I guess she'd noticed I'd done that after all.

"Thanks for that, I guess," she mumbled, teasing a damp curl between her fingers.

I kept my eyes fixed on the road and focused on turning the wheel. "You're welcome."

After a few more blocks, we came to the little strip mall that had a Hey, Food!, and I parked the car in a space near the edge of the lot. After I cut off the engine, I pulled a blanket I'd thought to bring from the backseat and handed it to her. I expected her to scoff and throw it over her shoulder into the back, maybe call me a nub or something, but she didn't. Instead, she reached out to take it from me, and when she did, our hands brushed against one another. Her fingers were like ice. She carefully unfolded the blanket, spread it over her lap and pulled it up to her chin, huddling beneath it. She looked so dejected, it almost hurt to look at her. The console was in between us, making it impossible to hold her like I so desperately wanted to, so instead I reached over to grab her hands and warm them in mine, but she pulled away, shaking her head. We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the rain patter on the roof of the car.

She broke the calm first.

"Why did you come after me, Freddie?" she demanded, her voice rising to a shriek. "I ran away for a reason! I didn't want anyone to find me, and then you show up and just pick me up and put me in your car like I'm nothing, like what I want doesn't even count for anything." Her voice started shaking. I had never heard it do that before. "I said I was sorry for what happened at Carly's. I shouldn't have done that. I should have known better. It won't happen again, okay? I'm sorry. How many times do I have to say it? I. Am. Sorry. So can you please just stop trying to prove your point and take me home now?"

I looked over at her. She was fiercely chewing on her lip and her eyes had gone cloudy again, but were also shining, like she was about to cry. I watched, helpless, as she swiped angrily at the tears now trailing down her cheeks. "Well?" she demanded.

"You want to know why I came after you?" I whispered. "I came after you because I was worried, Sam! After what happened in the apartment, you just bolted. You ran away. It scared me. I've never seen you leave so fast before, and that includes that day in science class when we heard about Free Chili Day at the Chili Bowl! What happened, Sam?" I asked, tugging on the zipper of my slicker. "What's wrong? Did I do something to hurt your feelings?"

"Ugh," she groaned, "Don't talk about feelings."

"Why not?" I demanded.

She turned toward me, her face full of irritation. "Because I don't like admitting that I have any!" she exploded. "I don't like feeling this way! And clearly you don't, either, because you couldn't even manage to say anything back at Carly's!"

I had known that she was going to try and play that card. But it wasn't even true! If she'd only listen, she'd know that. "You didn't give me a chance to answer you!"

"You just stood there, stuttering and looking like you'd just seen a ghost! That was answer enough for me." She opened the car door, tossing the blanket onto the floor. "Goodbye, Freddie."

"Sam, wait- at least let me take you home. I-"

"No," she said, turning away from me as lightning shattered the sky. "No. I'm gone."

And with that, she slammed the door and sprinted away.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Beautiful Disaster" by Jon McLaughlin.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10:**_

_**Let Go. It's Gonna Be All Right.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I sat in the car for a moment, staring at her discarded blanket, trying to decide whether or not I should go after her.

After another moment, my choice was clear: I couldn't let her run away again.

Seconds after she had bolted from the car, I yanked the keys from the ignition and bounded after her. She was fast, faster than I ever would have imagined she would be. I had to give her credit for trying, but regardless of her speed, I quickly caught up and reached her before she could even leave the parking lot.

I threw my arms out and grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled at first: "Let me go. Let me go!" but she clearly didn't bank on the fact that puberty had been kind to me, and I was now significantly stronger than she was. When I was certain she wasn't going to try to run away again, I released her. We stood facing each other in the corner of that dark parking lot, lightning cracking across the sky and the rain slamming down in sheets.

"Sam?" I began, stepping toward her.

She refused to look at me. She had her eyes downcast, watching her feet as she lightly tapped the toe of her shoe in a puddle.

"Sam, look at me."

Still nothing. I took another step forward so we were now less than three feet apart.

"Samantha Puckett, you look at me right now!" I demanded.

Oh. That got her attention. She whipped her head up so fast I thought for sure she was going to launch herself at me, but instead she fixed a deathly glare from her angry blue eyes on me and crossed her arms defensively.

"What, Fredward?"

"Right now, it's my turn to talk, and your turn to listen. Don't speak. Just listen to me, please?" I rocked back on my heel. "Please?"

She sighed. "It's not looking like I have any choice."

I took that as permission to keep going.

"Sam, you've gotta know... what happened in Carly's apartment? It didn't 'horrify' me, or whatever it was you said. In case you didn't notice, it wasn't like I tried to stop you. I kissed you back, remember? I was just as into it as you were. And I tried to tell you that, but you ran off before I could even get a word out!"

"Freddie," she said quietly, tucking a curl behind her ear, "You don't have to lie to me. It's okay. No hard feelings, all right? It's fine."

"But don't you see?" I asked desperately, closing the space between us and grabbing her by the hand. I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eyes. "I'm not lying, Sam! I'm telling the truth!"

She pulled away, crossed her arms again, looked back down. "You're a better actor than I would have thought, Freddie." She laughed a little to herself. "Pretty impressive stuff. We really should write you into more segments on the show."

I reached back up and rested my hand lightly on her cheek. "Sam," I began, carefully pushing her damp curls out of her eyes, "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I might actually be interested in you?"

She gently removed my hand. "Because I know for a fact that no one ever will be. Even you."

"Sam," I sighed, shaking my head, "That is ridiculous. Why would you think that? What could have possibly happened to make you believe that? Why is it so silly to you that someone might actually like you?"

She wouldn't look at me. "Sam, please!" I pleaded.

I watched in surprise as her eyes spilled over, sending tears over her cheeks. "It's nothing, I- I don't want to talk about it," she whispered.

I wrapped my arms around her, stroking her hair as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Sam, I think you really need to."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Hold On" by B*Witched.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11:**_

_**I Just Wanna Love You.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

She broke away from my embrace, backing away several steps.

"Sam," I began, stepping toward her yet again, "Please, just get back in the car."

"I don't want to." She mumbled, crossing her arms.

"I know you don't want to, and I don't care. Please, just hear me out. I am begging you to just listen to me. If you want to run away again, that's your choice, but just know that no matter how many times you run away, I'll never stop coming after you. Just let me in, Sam. Please."

She continued to stand her ground, refusing to look me in the eye. I sighed. She was so stubborn. All I wanted was a chance, and she was so proud, she couldn't even manage to give me that. I pushed my hands in my pockets, and turned to walk away.

"Goodbye, Sam," I sighed, starting to head back to the car. I had only walked about ten feet before I realized I heard footsteps behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Sam trudging behind me, arms still crossed defiantly, wet curls plastered to her forehead.

I opened her door so she could climb in, then walked around to my side and sat back down behind the steering wheel. I looked over at her and saw that she was curled up in her seat under her blanket, finally fixing her eyes on me. All anger and irritation was gone from her face. She just looked sad and tired, one hand tugging on her hair while the other fiddled with a frayed seam on the edge of the blanket.

I laid my hand on her knee.

"Sam, just listen for five minutes. Please. Okay?"

She nodded, looking defeated. I knew then that she wasn't going to go anywhere.

I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. Here we go, Freddie. This was going to be interesting.

"Sam, first thing you've gotta know is that... what happened at Carly's? It didn't horrify me."

She looked up at me with doubtful eyes, opening her mouth to start to say something, but I cut her off before she could.

"No, I mean it. I promise. And it wasn't that I didn't _want _to say anything, it was just- I couldn't. I couldn't find the words to. I was speechless. And do you know why?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Because I surprised the crap out of you and you had no idea how to react?"

"No. I mean, yes. Kind of. I was surprised, all right, but it wasn't an unwelcome surprise. What you need to know, Sam, is... I like you, too. A lot. And I'm not just saying that because you told me you liked me! I mean, if we're being honest here... I have loved you ever since that night on the fire escape. I've thought about what happened that night every single day since it happened. I was just afraid to tell you, because that was a business deal, and we swore to never speak of it again. But I..." I chuckled a little to myself. I sounded like such a nub, but I didn't even care. "I just can't keep it to myself any longer. That's why I came after you tonight. You are so important to me, Samantha Puckett. Just let me love you. Please." I reached over and grabbed her hand, looking her in the eye. "Please. Just give me a chance."

She didn't speak, just looked at me, studying my expression carefully, as if she expected me to suddenly start laughing and say I was kidding. Once she was sure that nothing like that was going to happen, her face softened, and for once she didn't pull her hand away.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "I Just Wanna Love You" by The Strange Familiar.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12: **_

_**I'm Beyond Repair; Let Me Be.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

All I could do was just sit there, staring at the boy across from me. My mind was reeling way too fast to do much of anything else.

This was all entirely too strange.

Freddie Benson had just proclaimed his love to me, and he sat in the driver's seat, gently holding my hand. For a moment, I almost believed that he meant what he'd said. For a moment.

But then, that moment ended.

We were still just sitting there, looking at each other, when a drop of rain from his slicker rolled down his sleeve and dripped onto my hand. The cold water startled me, but snapped me back to reality so that I could take moment and actually process everything.

No, I realized. Things like this didn't happen to girls like me. They just didn't. He couldn't be serious.

I gently pulled his hand away from mine, giving it back to him before saying, "Freddie, I'm flattered. I really am, but you just can't love me. You can't feel the same way about me as I do about you. It's impossible. I really appreciate what you're trying to do here, trying to make me feel better, but, the truth is, I accepted a long time ago that I'm always going to be alone. I'm fine with it. This is all my fault. You don't have to pretend for my sake. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that and dragged you into this mess. I'm sorry."

"Sam," he sighed, shaking his head, "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're being ridiculous!Why the hell would you think you are going to be alone? You're only seventeen years old! Don't you think that's a little young to be an old maid? You've barely even had time to date anyone!"

"Maybe," I said, "But you have to understand something here, Freddie: it's not about dating, or anything like that. I just know for a fact that I will never be in a relationship. No one is ever going to want anything other than a few dates or a casual hookup from me. I'm just not a lovable person. I've come to terms with that." I could feel my eyes welling up, so I took a deep breath. No way was I going to start crying again. I'd had enough of that for one night.

He shook his head again, sighing. "Why is it so unbelievable to you that someone could actually love you? I love you Sam, I do-"

"No, you don't!" I screeched, cutting him off. "You might think you do right now, but deep inside, you don't! Once something better comes along, you'll be gone. It's the way the world works. I'm fine with it. There's no need for you to cause yourself any unnecessary heartache, and that's exactly what's going to happen here."

"But I would never leave, Sam! Nothing better will ever come along. I know we're young, but ever since that night on the fire escape, I've known that- that you were it." He blushed and looked down, tugging on the drawstrings of his slicker. Goddammit, he looked so cute- no. No, Sam. Focus. You have to do this.

"But I'm not worth it, Freddie! I love you so much that it scares me, but I just can't let you do this to yourself. I'll never be good enough for you." I exhaled. There. Done,

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't just think that, Freddie. I know it for a fact."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13:**_

_**Oh, Broken Angel, Were You Sad When He Crushed All Your Dreams?**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I just stared at Sam for a second, shocked by what she had just said. How- how one Earth could she 'know' that she was unlovable and would never be in a relationship? She was only seventeen years old, for God's sake. I knew I had to try again. I had to get through to her.

"Sam," I began softly, "I don't care how many truckers you've knocked out with cartons of milk, how many times you've stolen other people's lunch money, or even how many times you've been arrested. It doesn't matter, okay? You're perfect to me."

She laughed. It startled me, it was such a hollow sound.

"You think I'm perfect, Freddie?" she cried, untangling her fingers from mine.

Her voice started rising, and I could tell she was crying. Sam never cried-

"You think I am _perfect? _Tell me, then, if I'm so perfect, why do I have all of these?"

She tugged her shirt over her head so she just sat there in a tank top. All of what? I didn't understand-

She turned on the car's interior light, and I saw them: scars.

Dozens and dozens of little, round scars dotted her shoulders and upper arms. Some were flat and white, while others were raised and a slightly darker color than the rest of her skin.

"What- what are those, exactly?" I stuttered, confused.

She looked at her shoulders as if seeing them for the first time, gently running a fingertip over one of the marks. She was quiet, but then, out of nowhere, she let out a sob.

"My father, do you know why he's in prison? Why I never talk about him?"

I shook my head, trying not to stare at her. I'd never asked. I had figured it was none of my business.

She drew a shaky breath. "When I was little," she began, pulling the blanket back around herself, "I lived with my sister and our parents in a cute little house in Yakima. My mom stayed at home with us while my dad worked, but he was always home for dinner. Melanie and I had lots of friends and plenty of toys to play with. We went to the park to play every weekend. Everything was great."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Everything was perfect. At least, until I was seven and my dad lost his job. We lost our cute little house and had to move to this skeevy neighborhood in Seattle. My mom started working as a maid to help make ends meet. My dad was so upset about losing his job and having to depend on my mom for everything that he started drinking and smoking. Not just a little bit, either- none of that 'moderation' crap- every payday, he'd cash my mom's check and then go straight to the liquor store, and come home with a huge brown paper bag full of bottles and a carton of cigarettes, and he'd park himself in front of the television and drink and drink and smoke and when he got himself good and drunk, he got mean. He'd call Melanie and I into the living room and ask us questions like "Who was Bill Clinton's vice-president?". You know, questions no seven-year-old is going to know the answer to. When we got them wrong, which we always did, he'd hit us with a bottle or pull on our hair.

"Melanie was always the less mature of the two of us. She'd get so nervous she would start stuttering, and then my dad would hit her more. I couldn't stand seeing anything happen to her, so, I started answering all of my dad's questions myself, purposefully answering wrong so he would get mad at me and then let Melanie go back to our room while he "taught me a lesson".

"I was a stupid little kid; I never did know when to shut up. When I'd try to talk my dad out of playing his little game, he'd yell at me. 'But I don't wanna play,' I'd say, and that's when he'd get really mad.

"'You don't want to play?' he'd scream, heaving himself out of his recliner. 'Well, listen here, Sammy, I don't give a damn what you want, you little shit. You are a child. How dare you dispute me?', he'd whisper, in a voice that made me know I was going to get it. 'Who do you think you are? You are _nothing, _Samantha Riley Puckett. _Nothing. _You will never accomplish anything! You are a worthless little piece of shit. Your thoughts and opinions don't matter and they never will, you got that? No one cares.'

"I'd always start crying at this point, and he would always laugh at me, coming at me and cornering me. 'You wanna cry?' he'd ask, his face red with anger. 'No one cries in this house, you hear me?'

"I'd nod, but I'd always keep crying. I couldn't help it. 'So, you wanna cry, even when I _just told you _no one cries in this house?'

"'No, Daddy, no! Please! I don't wanna play anymore!'

"'Don't you DARE tell me what to do! That's the problem with you women! You think you can control a man! You are a bad, bad girl, Sam, and you must be punished. I'm only doing this because I love you. If this is the only way I can teach you, then I guess this is what it'll have to be.' He'd shake his head, like it really pained him.

"'I'm sorry, Daddy, I'll be good! I'm sorry!' I'd say. But he would always ignore me.

"'No, I don't think so. If you want to be a little baby and cry, then, by God, I will GIVE you something to cry about!'

"Then he'd hit me with his empty bottles and pull my hair and kick and hit me until I just fell on the floor, and then he'd take his disgusting cigarette out of his mouth and- and-"

I looked over at Sam. Her eyes were flooded with tears, and her face was contorted in a grimace as she bit her lip, trying to hold back a sob. She leaned back against the door and banged her head on the window, still crying.

Jesus Christ.

"Stop it! Sam, stop it!" I leaned over and gently grabbed her by her scarred shoulders. "Sam, please!"

My touch made her flinch. I pulled away. She drew a shaky breath and started to speak again.

"One day I was talking to my friend Alex at school. She said she'd gotten in really deep trouble the night before for not doing her chores. 'Oh,' I asked, 'How many times does your dad burn you?' She gave me a funny look and said 'He doesn't, he just doesn't give me any dessert.' Then she went home and told her mom, and her mom called Child Protective Services, and my dad got arrested and I had to testify against him, and now my mother hates me and it's all my fault!

"He only wanted to discipline me! Why would he say that if he didn't mean it? And why would he tell me all those things if they weren't true? He was my daddy! Daddies are supposed to know everything about their children, right?" she wailed, burying her face in her hands. "He was right about me, Freddie. I should've been a better kid, I should've kept my mouth shut! I deserve everything that happened to me, and I know what I don't deserve is you. I'm not worth it! I'm just not any good!"

I sat in shock, watching this tiny little blonde disaster whimper in the seat beside me, her face full of anguish that she had fought for so long to hide. Her entire frame shook with ragged sobs. Her scars, reminders of things she wanted to forget, peeked through loose strands of golden hair and gleamed silver in the moonlight reflecting through the rain-streaked window.

I couldn't just watch her anymore. I crawled into the backseat of the car, pushing a book onto the floor to make room, then gently grabbed her hand and helped her position herself beside me. She sat stock still for a moment, arms tightly crossed and tear-filled eyes fixed on a point somewhere in front of her.

"Sam." She looked up at me, but didn't meet my gaze. I didn't say anything else, just opened my arms, and waited. A few more moments passed.

Dammit. Why did I think she would want any comfort? She's too independent and, more importantly, too broken by her experiences to be able to trust anyone. I was about to climb back into the front seat and drive us somewhere, anywhere, when she moved.

She did so hesitantly at first, slowly unfolding her arms. As she got closer, a fresh wave of tears spilled forth from her eyes, and she buried her face in my chest, weeping into handfuls of my shirt.

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as tight as I could. "It's okay," I soothed, stroking her hair. I kissed her temple softly and rested my chin on her head as she continued to cry. "Everything is going to be okay."

I know what I was saying is completely cliché, but I didn't know what else to do. I felt helpless. All I could do was let her cling to me, and pray that she knew how much I loved her. God, I loved her so much. Seeing her like this was almost devastating. Before I knew it, I felt tears sliding down my own face.

I don't know how long we sat like that, each of us clutching the other like we never wanted to let go. It could have been years, for all I cared. I just wanted to make everything okay.

Finally, she calmed down. Her breathing evened out, and she stopped shaking. Even so, she didn't let go.

I didn't, either.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Broken Angel" by Boyce Avenue- the very same song that the story itself is named after!

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14:**_

_**I'll Be Your Crying Shoulder.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

We sat in the car for a few silent moments, intertwined with one another, just listening to the sound of the other's breath and the patter of rain on the roof of the car. Finally, I spoke: "Sam, just one more thing. I'm a nerd, right?"

She nodded against my chest. "The nerdiest."

"Are nerds smart?" I asked.

Another nod.

"When I say something, aren't I usually right?"

Another nod.

"Then you have to believe what I'm about to tell you, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled. Her voice sounded exhausted.

"Sam, you're wonderful-"

She cut me off. "No, I'm not. I'm just a screwup."

"Shh. No. You're a lot of things, Sam, but a screwup isn't one of them. Even after everything you just told me, I don't see you as damaged, or scarred, or imperfect. If anything, you're more perfect to me now. You are, without a doubt, the strongest, bravest girl I have ever met." I slung my arms around her shoulders and pulled her in even closer. "And you may not believe me, but I promise it's true, and I never break a promise." She released her grip for a minute, pulling away from me, and for a split second, I was afraid that she was going to run off again, but she didn't. Instead, she pushed herself closer to me until she was literally sitting on my lap, her slight body curled up against mine.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Freddie?" she whispered, fiddling with the zipper on my jacket. "I've never been nice to you."

"Because I love you," I said simply, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"My dad said he loved me, too," she whispered pitifully, snuggling in closer.

"Samantha Riley Puckett," I said sternly, "You listen to me. None of that was your fault, do you understand?" I gently placed a hand on either side of her face and made her look me right in the eye. "The way your father treated you? I can promise you this, Sam: that wasn't love. That was a very sick man's way of dealing with his problems by taking out his anger on a defenseless little girl."

I stroked her bangs back away from her face, still staring into her blue eyes.

"But this? What I feel for you? It's real, Sam. I'm as sure of it as I have ever been of anything. I promise you that I will never love you the way your father did. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. Please, just give me a chance to show you what love is supposed to be."

I kissed her forehead. "I love you so much, Sam. It's weird and I don't know how it happened, but I do."

"But I'm such a weak little nub, Freddie!" she whimpered. "I can't ever really tell you how I feel. I run away from all of my problems. I still have nightmares- I wake up crying sometimes, and I don't know where I am. Are you sure you can handle all of that? Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"

"Shh," I soothed, stroking her hair. "Listen: you aren't weak; you're strong. You won't have to tell me how you feel; I'll know. If you run away, I'll come after you, no matter how far. And if you have a nightmare, call me and I will comfort you." I held her tighter, arms wrapped around her scarred shoulders. "In short, the answer is yes, I can handle it, and I do know what I'm getting myself into. But do you know what you need to know?"

"What's that?"

"You are absolutely, positively worth every bit of it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15:**_

_**I Don't Know How To Let Anyone Else In.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

The rain beat down, hard, on the roof of Freddie's car, trickling down the windows, making me think that, maybe, the sky was crying with me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder, trying to regain at least some of my composure after everything that had just happened. Freddie must have sensed my discomfort, because he unhooked an arm from around my waist and started stroking my back. He was so gentle; I felt a sense of safety I'd never experienced before. His touch was comforting me. I felt my muscles begin to relax, one by one, and I realized I was exhausted...

..._I'm eight years old, and it's the first time my dad hurt me: my skin smarting with fresh burns, head aching from him yanking my hair, new bruises on my legs, eyes swollen from crying that I'd had to stop so he wouldn't keep doing it. When I get back to my room, it's spotless- when Melanie gets nervous, she cleans. It's as if she thinks that just because our parents are mad, they'll throw away all of our things. I wish that was all that'd happen._

_I get back to our room, biting back tears, and find Melanie sitting on the edge her bed, clutching her favorite teddy bear. I take off my school dress and pull on my Cinderella night gown, carefully tugging my hair out from under the collar so it doesn't rub against any burns. I climb into bed, trying not to wince, and face the wall. _

"_Sammy?"_

_I turn over to face her, but she doesn't look at me. Instead, she just swings her feet and fixes her eyes on her Mary Janes. "Sammy, I'm sorry Daddy is mean to you. Let me help. I can help, I promise I can!" She picks a piece of lint off of her bear. "He can't be mean to both of us, right?"_

"_Mellie, no."_

"_But Sammy-"_

"_No, Mellie. I'm fine. You're going away to school soon. That's what you need to being thinking about. I can handle Daddy. After all, it's just a game."_

_Melanie walks over to my bed, kisses my cheek and tucks her bear into my arms. "I love you, Sammy."_

"_I love you too, Mellie. Don't worry about me. It's just a game." I curl up with her bear and try to relax, but suddenly the door swings open. _

"_Who the hell told you you could go to sleep, you little shit?" I look at Melanie. Her eyes are huge and she's pressed up against the wall, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible. "Goddammit, Sam, I asked you a question!"_

_I can't move. I just sit there holding Melanie's bear, mouth open. He starts to come over to me, hand raised- I cower, knowing what's about to happen-_

"_Daddy, leave Sammy 'lone!" _

_He turns toward her with glassy eyes. "What did you just say, Melanie?"_

_Her lip starts to quiver. "Just please, Daddy, leave Sammy alone- my bear and her are having a sleepover, see?" She tries to smile as she points across the room to me. "Let me play with you instead, Daddy!"_

"_Fine, Melanie. We'll go play."_

_I can see pure fear in Melanie's eyes. "Okay, Daddy." They leave the room. Seconds later, I hear an earsplitting scream from the den. I run in there to find Melanie on the floor, our dad standing over her, holding a cigarette and smiling._

"_Daddy- Melanie- No! Leave her alone!"_

_He grabs me and plunges the cigarette into my skin._

"_No!" I cry again. He lets out a roar- I can hear Melanie whimpering- "No! Let go of me!"_

"Sam, wake up! Wake up, Sam, please!"

Suddenly, the den melted away and the only hands on me were Freddie's, who was desperately shaking me by the shoulders.

"Freddie? What happened?"

He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and hugged me protectively. "I don't know. One minute, we were just sitting, and then you kind of slumped over a little bit. I figured you fell asleep- I mean, you have a right to be tired. Then all of a sudden you started screaming and thrashing. It scared me."

I tried to smile. "Nightmare, remember?"

He frowned. "How often do you have them?"

"A couple times a week," I shrugged. "I'm used to it. I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he sighed, gently stroking my back.

"Freddie, I've been dealing with this for years, okay? It's not a big deal."

"But that's the thing- it **is **a big deal!" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't have to deal with it! I hate him for what he's done to you! You are a mess inside. Can't you see that?

"Of course I do! But you have to understand- this? This is all I've ever known; being strong, handling everything myself. I don't know how to be any other way." I bit my lip, trying to keep back tears. Dammit to hell, I did not want to cry again!

Freddie's face softened. "I do understand, Sam, and I know this is difficult for you, and I know that you don't know how to let your guard down,"

I rested my head against his chest. God, I was so tired.

"But, please, just let me show you."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16:**_

_**Yours Are The Sweetest Eyes I've Ever Seen.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

We sat in the backseat of my car as the storm raged around us, the lightning cracking across the sky and thunder rumbling off in the distance. It was strangely comforting. I have no idea how long we sat, and honestly, I couldn't have cared less. I would have been fine just sitting there and holding her in my lap until morning, or however long it took.

"Freddie, don't you think you should probably go home soon?" Sam mumbled into my jacket.

I relaxed my grip on her waist. "What, do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's not that. I don't **want** you to go anywhere, it's just... don't you think your mother is probably going into conniptions worrying about you?"

Oh, God, I had forgotten about my mother! She was going to kill me!

I tried to keep my voice calm. "Now that you mention it, that's probably exactly what she's doing, but don't worry about it. I'll stay here with you and deal with my mom later."

"I don't want to cause you any more trouble, Freddie," she said, pushing herself off my lap and into the front seat. "You've been great, but just take me home. I'm fine."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yep. Promise." She buckled her seatbelt. "Come on, let's go."

I clambered back into the driver's seat, cranked up the car, and finally pulled out of the parking lot of Hey Food!. When I reached down to turn the heat back on for Sam, I noticed the clock. Wait- that couldn't be right. I had been in the car with Sam for over two hours!

I sped through the streets of Seattle and headed toward her house to drop her off. I managed to keep a reasonable amount of composure, even with hot panic streaking through my veins at the thought of what was undoubtedly waiting for me back at home.

The thing you have to understand about my mother is that she really doesn't mean to be as overbearing and overprotective as she is. I know that she just wants what's best for me, and I'm all she has, so I just kind of put up with it to make her happy. It just wears me out sometimes, though. Seriously, I've been decontaminated and disinfected more than a member of a HAZMAT team cleaning up a toxic spill. There was no doubt in my mind that I was getting at least tick bath that night, but I figured it was worth it as long as Sam finally understood how I felt about her.

I pulled up to the curb in front of Sam's shabby little house. She reached over to open her door, but then paused, reached over, and punched me on the shoulder before starting to get out. Before she could, I grabbed her wrist, making her turn around.

"What?"

I kissed her tear-stained cheek. "I hate you, Sam."

She smirked at me, and I could see her eyes had turned their bright cerulean color of happiness. I couldn't help but grin back at her as she replied, "Hate you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This chapter was named after a lyric from the song "Your Song" by Elton John.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17: **_

_**Courage Is When You're Afraid, But You Find Your Strength Anyway.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

Sam slammed the car door shut behind her. I watched her as she went up the concrete steps, fitted her key into the lock, and slipped inside the house.

I sat in the car for a moment, running my hand over the top of the steering wheel, before I decided that I had better get back home.

As I drove through the soaked streets of Seattle toward Bushwell Plaza, my mind was just racing, trying to wrap itself around the enormity of everything that had happened: Sam, weaker and more vulnerable than I had ever seen her, crying, opening herself up to me in a way that I had never even thought was possible, much less likely to actually happen. There were just so many emotions swirling inside me: joy at our newly discovered connection; compassion at the thought of her story; anger towards her father for everything he'd done to her, and towards myself for not knowing about it sooner and treating her so poorly when she'd needed it least. It was almost too much to take in.

I finally turned into the parking lot and stopped the car, turned it off. I was suddenly exhausted. I ran a hand through my hair. All I could think was how much I didn't want to be here, how much I would rather still be with Sam, with her warmth and her surprising depth and complexity and the way she smelled like cotton candy lip balm and vanilla. But no, sometimes, we have to do things that we just don't want to do, and dealing with my mother tonight was definitely one of those things.

I eventually went inside, got into the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. It hummed upward and I wracked my brain, trying to think of what excuse I could give my mom for my absence over the past hours. I couldn't come up with anything. This was probably the only question I'd ever encountered that I just didn't have an answer for.

The elevator stopped on my floor, pinging to announce my arrival. As I stepped out, I heard a door open, and I saw a very concerned Carly standing in front of me.

"Freddie! Where have you been? I came back from Groovy Smoothie, and you and Sam were gone. She didn't even get to have her drink I brought her." She held up a soggy paper cup full of blueberry blitz. "What happened?"

I couldn't meet her gaze. I knew I'd spill everything to her if I did, and I'd sworn to Sam that I wouldn't repeat anything she'd told me. "Nothing, Carls."

"You're telling me you just left, and Sam turned down a free smoothie, for no reason."

I cleared my throat. "Yes."

She narrowed her eyes and looked at me carefully. "I don't believe you."

I sighed. "It's the truth. Look," I began, my voice brimming with irritation, "This has been just great, but I have another interrogation waiting for me across the hall, so if you don't mind, I'd like to continue this fun-fest tomorrow, okay?"

Carly looked stung. "All right, fine, Freddie. See you tomorrow."

I instantly regretted my words. She hadn't done anything wrong. "Carly, I'm sorry-"

But she had already shut the door. Wonderful.

I turned and stood in front of my threshold, taking a moment to gather my composure. I felt so pathetic. As little girl, Sam could handle years of abuse at the hands of a cruel, unfeeling father, and I , a teenager, practically fully grown, couldn't even be brave enough to go inside and confront my mother. Sam deserves someone to take care of her, to be at least as strong as she was, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to do everything in my power to be worthy of her.

With this thought and newfound confidence, I opened my door and stepped into my apartment.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Courage Is..." by The Strange Familiar.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18:**_

_**I Can't Be Afraid; It's My Turn To Be Brave.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

As I knew she would be, my mother was waiting right inside the door, her arms crossed tightly and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Fredward Benson," she began in a deadly whisper, "What am I going to do with you?"

I cleared my throat. "I- uh-"

"Do you have any _idea _how _worried _I have been?"

"Yeah, I do, and I'm really sorry-"

"I very nearly called the police! I was practically hysterical! You _know _you are supposed to come straight home after the show! You know that, Freddie! Where have you been all night?"

"I was- um-"

"FREDWARD."

As she glowered at me, I shuffled my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to figure out what I could say-

"I. Am. _Waiting."_

Uh oh. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she meant business. Well, I didn't have to tell her the whole truth. This wasn't exactly a court of law, was it? Still, I had never lied to my mother before, but I figured that keeping Sam's secret was worth it. "Sam was going to walk home, but about ten minutes after she left, it started raining." I shrugged my shoulders. "I couldn't very well let her walk all the way back to her house in a thunderstorm, could I? So, I took the car, found her, and drove her home." I shrugged again. "You did raise me to be a gentleman, didn't you, Mom? I was just trying to do like you taught me."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief. There. Just enough of the truth so that it wasn't exactly a lie, wrapped up in a dose of flattery large enough to soften even my mother's dried-up old heart.

My mother uncrossed her arms. I could tell she was starting to buy it. "But, Freddie, how on Earth did it take you two hours to drive Samantha home?"

Crap. I had forgotten how long we were gone. Quick, Freddie, quick, think up another lie.

"Well, when we got to her house, Sam asked me to help her with her homework, and I didn't have any reception because of the storm, so I couldn't call you. I guess I just lost track of time."

"Freddie," she said quietly, stepping up to me and putting her hands on my shoulders, "I know that I can seem overprotective and overbearing, but, honey, I just want what's best for you. I just want you to be the best you can be, in every aspect of your life, do you understand that?"

I didn't look her in the eye. "Yeah, Mom, of course I do."

She sighed. "Then why are you lying to me?"

Bam. I felt my heart skip, then continue to beat so hard I could hear it, and I was sure that my mother could too. I tried to laugh, but it just came out like a coughed-up, choking sound. "L-lying? Wh-what do you mean?"

She took my hand, lead me over to the couch, and sat me down. "After you didn't come home right away, I panicked. I tried calling you, but there was no answer. I thought at first that the storm might have knocked the service out, but I knew that wasn't it, since my phone was working fine. I was so worried, honey- I didn't know what to do, so I activated the GPS chip in your phone to see where you were, and I know for a fact that you were at Hey, Food! for the majority of the time that you were gone."

Speechless. I was absolutely speechless. I couldn't even think of an excuse to try and stammer out; it was like someone had come into my brain and just wiped it completely bare of thought. So, I just sat there, dumbfounded, as she continued.

"Look, Freddie, I don't expect you to tell me everything, but I never thought that you would lie to me. I know you are at an age where you are going through a lot of changes, and I know that you are going to want to broaden your horizons. If you and Sam were 'experimenting' in the car, you can tell me. I know how I can be sometimes, and I promise that I won't get angry. So," she said, turning toward me, "What exactly went on with you and Sam tonight?"

I struggled to find my voice as she looked at me expectantly. "We- um- weren't doing anything in the car." I mumbled.

She gave me a knowing look. "Freddie, what did I just say? You can tell me-"

"Look, Mom, nothing happened-"

"Then why do you smell like that godawful cotton candy scented stuff that she wears?"

"I promise, nothing happened-"

And then, in a flash, that anger she promised would not appear reared up to the surface. "Freddie, don't you dare lie to me! Tell me what happened tonight, or so help me, I will delouse you every day for the rest of your natural born life! _What _went on between you and Samantha? Is it really so perverse that you are ashamed to tell me? I hope that you were at least respectful of her-"

That was it. I'd had enough of her accusations. I flew to my feet, towering over her, as a jumble of words tumbled out of my mouth faster than I could even begin to try and stop them. "Mom, I _promise _nothing happened! Okay, maybe I kissed her once, but that was it! Nothing 'perverse' went on, I swear! Besides, the for most of the time we were there, she was crying too hard for me to 'try' anything! Not that I would have, because for one, that's not the kind of person I am, and two, I respect her and her wishes, and tonight was just a really emotional time for her, okay?"

My mom stood up too, her face slightly softened, but I could hear that the anger remained in her voice. "What do you mean, 'crying too hard' and 'really emotional'? _What did you do, Freddie?_"

"I didn't do anything! I promise! I didn't. What kind of person do you think I am, Mom? Don't you think you raised me better than that? I would never do anything to hurt Sam, or any other girl for that matter. Don't you know that?"

From the look in her eyes, I could tell that she knew I was telling the truth.

"Okay, Freddie, I believe you."

I let my breath out. "Thank you." I turned to go to my room.

"Wait a minute, we aren't done here." She gestured back to the couch. "I still would like to know what could make Sam, of all people, upset enough to get you to comfort her. I love you, Freddie, but... it seems odd that she would come to you. I mean, don't you too kind of... hate each other? What happened?"

I sank back into the couch. "She asked me not to say anything."

"And who am I going to tell, Freddie? I am a grown woman, don't you think that I am above gossiping?"

"It's just really not your concern."

"It has to do with you, and you are most certainly my concern." She reached over and stroked my hair. "Tell me, honey. It really is okay."

My mind was racing, trying to find a way out of this, but what choice did I have? She was my mother, after all. And, to be honest, it would be nice to tell someone everything that had happened. I didn't want to admit it, but this was weighing on me pretty heavily. If I told her, I could give myself some relief of this burden, no matter how temporary. "Fine."

"Sam _did _start to walk home after iCarly, but that wasn't what was supposed to happen. See, Spencer was gonna take her home, since we knew that it'd rain tonight. Anyway, she's been acting weird lately- really distant, not her usual self. So tonight, after the show, when Carly walked down to the Groovy Smoothie to get us drinks, I decided to talk to her about it, just to see what was going on, you know? Make sure she was okay."

I paused. Telling this was going to be more awkward and difficult than I'd anticipated.

"So, I confronted her, and asked her what was up. She tried to deny it at first, but I told her I could tell that she was going through something, and that even though we aren't exactly close, I'd always be there if she needed me, and then she- uh- she kissed me."

I heard my mom gasp and start to say something, but I kept plowing on before she could. I had to finish this before I lost my nerve.

"That's not all. She told me she loves me. It caught me so off-guard that I didn't know how to react- I mean, like you said, we _do _kind of hate each other- and before I could say anything, she was halfway across the room, apologizing, and then she just ran out of the apartment. By the time I recovered from the shock, she was long gone. So, I decided to take the car and go after her. I finally found her on a bench a few blocks away. She was soaking wet, and I could tell she was embarrassed. I put her in the car to drive her home- I mean, I couldn't just leave her out there like that. She wouldn't stop trying to get away. She got out of the car more than once, but finally, I guess being so cold and wet and tired got to her, and she got back in the car without a fight."

My mom took a deep breath, and I could see her struggling to process everything. "Okay. Go on."

"I finally managed to get her to listen to me long enough that I could tell her what happened at Carly's wasn't a problem, that I like her, too. I told her that the idea that I didn't wasn't true, that she was- I think the word I used was 'perfect'- and then she just started crying. It was weird; I've never seen her cry before. She wouldn't stop saying how she wasn't good enough for me, or anyone, for that matter, much less perfect, and then she stripped down to her tank top and-"

My eyes started to well up again, and my voice cracked a little. "She has scars all over her shoulders, Mom. From cigarettes."

A gasp and a shake of the head from beside me. "My God, who on Earth did that to her?"

"Her dad. When she was just a kid. He lost his job when Sam was seven and became an alcoholic. He'd abuse both her and her sister, only she'd draw attention to herself so her sister wouldn't get hurt so bad. He'd hurt her worse if she cried or showed any emotion at all. She's so used to being punished for having feelings that it was almost impossible for her to tell me how she feels about me."

"I just can't understand how anyone could do something like that to their own child. That's just awful."

"It is. I don't think she planned on turning tonight into a Sam Puckett Sobfest, but that's what happened. She completely broke down every single wall that she's got. When she was crying, it was like everything that she's had to swallow up since she was a little girl has been building up inside of her, and, tonight, it all finally got released. Do you know how helpless it makes you feel, to look at someone you care about so much, and to have to see them going through such an incredible amount of hurt all at once? And to know that there is absolutely nothing that you can do to make it better? Can you imagine how badly that must have hurt her, to all of a sudden lose all her strength and be so vulnerable? She cried for over an hour, Mom. And not just a few tears, either. She sat in my lap and sobbed on my shoulder for what seemed like forever. That's why I smell like her, and that 'godawful cotton candy scented stuff she wears'. Because all I could do was hold her, and try to make her feel as safe as I could, while she finally felt everything she's pushed aside for so long."

I looked over at her, and I could see the same helpless look in her face that I myself had felt earlier.

"Then she fell asleep. I couldn't bear to wake her. The entire night had taken so much out of her, and she just looked so peaceful. Eventually, I had to, because she started having a nightmare about her dad. Apparently, that happens pretty often, and I guess it was triggered by talking about it so much. I don't know. Then, she finally seemed to pull herself together, and that's when I really did drive her home."

My mom remained sitting completely still, and I didn't think that she was going to move anytime soon. Sighing, I started to get up off the couch, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her arms like she did when I was a little kid.

"It's okay, Freddie. You're okay now. I am so proud of you, baby."

And with that, I finally relaxed my front of toughness that I'd put on for Sam all night, and as she stroked my hair and soothed me, I cried in my mother's embrace for the first time in years.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Brave" by Idina Menzel.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19:**_

_**Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

I stepped into the house, closing the door behind me, hearing the faint rumble of Freddie's car pulling away from the curb outside. I felt a smile play across my face, and I tapped a finger against my mouth, trying to memorize exactly what Freddie's lips had felt like against mine.

In that moment, despite everything that had happened that night; the kiss, the rain, the car, the emotional roller coaster that I hadn't thought would ever stop, I felt... fine? It was strange. For once in my life, I didn't feel like the sad little girl I usually did, the one who was filled with insane amounts of aggression, the one who always fell just a little bit short, the one with the constant shadows etched underneath her eyes from sleepless evenings full of raging nightmares. I didn't feel any of those things, and as I made my way down the hall, smiling like an idiot, it was almost as if I had never felt that way at all. I was completely blissed out.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.

I had just come up in front of my door when I heard it. A gravelly voice. "Sammy, baby. It sure has been a long time."

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I had heard that voice before. I reached down and pinched my arm, then pinched it again, harder. I had to be dreaming. Another pinch. Another. Please, please, let this just be a dream-

A hand clapped my shoulder, hard, then spun me around. I stared at my shoes, struggling with rising panic and feeling my spine tingle with fear, trying as hard as I could to find some comfort and recall the touch and kiss of the boy who loved me.

"Look at me, Sammy."

I didn't look up. I stood, frozen and tongue-tied, feeling my breath quicken.

"G-go away," I whispered, balling my hands into fists. I could feel my fingernails cutting into my palms.

A calloused hand reached beneath my chin, lifting my head and forcing me to look the stranger in the eyes. I tried to jerk my head away, but was held fast in that rough hand.

"I said go away."

"Aw, come on, Sam, is that any way to greet your daddy?"

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20: **_

_**Don't You Remember I'm Your Baby Girl?**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

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><p>Disclaimer: This chapter contains subject matter that falls under the fiction rating of M, and it may not be appropriate for all readers.<p>

* * *

><p>I didn't know if it was actually possible for my heart to literally stop because of fear, but if it was, I swear that is what happened to me in that moment. All of the memories I had spent so long trying to push away came rushing back in one huge flood, and it made me feel dizzy, like my head was spinning. I swallowed, hard, and looked down at the stained, worn carpet, trying to remain calm. I wasn't scared. How ridiculous. Mama's not afraid. She is not afraid of anything. She's not.<p>

Or... let's be honest. Maybe she is. I mean... maybe I am.

I felt his grip tighten on my shoulders before he used a callused fingertip to force my chin away from my chest. I stared up at him, fixing my eyes into his dead, soulless brown ones that looked sunken into the waxy, pale skin of his face. I suddenly realized how old he looked. His hair had gone completely grey, and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Prison had clearly taken a lot out of him, and judging from the stench of whiskey and smoke on his breath as he panted into my face, it hadn't 'rehabilitated' him at all, like they say it's supposed to.

I glanced down again, staring at my feet until I felt his hands loosen slightly. I waited one more moment, just to be on the safe side, then abruptly turned, breaking free of his grasp. Okay. I had to focus. Concentrate, Sam; concentrate. One foot in front of the other. Keys… whatever, I didn't need them. I just had to get out. I was so close. **So close**. I was almost there- my hand had just touched the doorknob, when he grabbed me from behind, wrapping an arm around my waist while his other hand tangled itself tightly in my hair, forcing my head back.

"Thought you'd run from me, eh, Sammy?" he grunted. I kicked my legs, hard, using my arms to strain against him and try to break free, but he had lifted me right off the floor. He was stronger than I'd bargained for. "Why would you run from your daddy? How disrespectful of you. But you can make it up to me." He dragged me over to the couch, completely oblivious to my struggling, forced me onto it and knelt beside me, keeping my wrists held tightly together in one hand. "Why don't we play a game, Sammy? Just like old times."

_Just like old times_. The thought of it made my blood run cold, and I realized my entire body was starting to shake. My head was pounding, my neck screaming from being jerked in the wrong direction, and I could feel a fresh wave of tears building up in the corners of my eyes. Oh, no. None of that. That would lead to nothing but trouble, so I bowed my head, hair covering my face, and tried to blink them back. "I… I don't want to play a game," I choked out in a whisper. I took a deep breath, willing the shaking to stop. "Just let me go, Daddy. Please."

He tossed his head back and roared with laughter, as if my plea was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Still clenching my wrists, he popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it, then started blowing smoke rings directly into my face. "You.. don't want... to play," he said slowly, exhaling a cloud of smoke. The smell held so many memories for me, it was almost enough to make me gag. "Well, how about this, Sam? I didn't want to go to prison. I begged them to let me go, like you just did me, but they never did. You wanna know why?" I kept my head down and said nothing. "Goddammit, Samantha, I asked you a question!"

I cleared my throat, stared him down. "Why?" I asked. My voice was expressionless.

"You know damn well why, you little shit! Because of **you**. You and that testimony of yours, and that asshole judge believing every word of bullshit that came out of your worthless little mouth. But I'll tell you something, little girl," He paused to take another drag off of his cigarette, sucking on it for dear life. "I'll tell you something: I didn't spend my time in prison for nothing, and now, by God, you **will** make it up to me."

With that, he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, and plunged it into the exposed skin of my collarbone. I screamed, feeling my flesh burn as I kicked and writhed around, desperately trying to break free. I was so blinded by the pain— I had forgotten how badly those burns hurt— that I didn't notice until a few moments later that he'd let go of my wrists, tying them instead with a thick rope and then using duct tape to bind my hands together.

Dammit, Sam! Why didn't you notice that he'd let go? I hope you're happy. Now you've blown your only chance to get away.

"You know, Sam," he said casually, placing another piece of duct tape over my mouth, "Prison was an incredibly lonely place. Since I got out on parole, I've still been lonely. And you know, I figured, since you're the one responsible for putting me in that hellhole, I think the very least you can do is help me ease the strain." He winked at me, and his face broke into an evil grin.

My breath quickened. Oh, no. This wasn't happening. No. I was having another nightmare. Any minute now, Freddie would be shaking me awake. Right. He'd take me in his arms, kiss my forehead and hold me. Yes. That was what would happen. I closed my eyes, waiting, praying for it.

A kiss on my forehead. I felt my muscles relax. Thank God- but wait, this kiss smelled different, not like Freddie. Freddie smelled like Ivory soap and Old Spice, with a hint of the Oust air sanitizer his neurotic mother obsessively sprayed in every last room of their apartment. This kiss wasn't any of those familiar things. This was the stench of jail, mingled with stale tobacco and cheap liquor. Another kiss, another. Trailing down my neck to my collarbone, then stopping abruptly.

I felt one shoe come off, then the other. Jeans unbuttoned and pulled off. Then, a weight on top of me.

My heart was racing. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes.

"Come on, Sammy, show how much you love your daddy," he breathed into my ear. "You've been a bad girl, Sam, and you have to be taught a lesson."

No, I screamed, inside my head. No.

"I'm only doing this because I love you."

No. Please-

–White hot, blinding, excruciating pain ripping through me from the center of my body. Again. Again.

I could feel my blood dripping, his pace quickening, I could hear his disgusting grunts-

I was trying to scream through the tape, but I couldn't; he was crushing my chest, I couldn't breathe-

My hands were tied-

I could feel tears spilling out from my closed eyelids.

I was in so much pain, I was sure that I'd never be able to feel anything else ever again. Nothing but pain, shame, humiliation, self-loathing-

It had to be a nightmare.

Freddie, wake me up.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started... it stopped.

The agony dulled from unbearable to a throbbing, and the pressure was released from my chest. I would have gasped for air, but I had to settle for frantically breathing through my nose. I opened my eyes, furiously blinking away tears, to see my father, sweaty, half-dressed and out of breath, standing over me, smiling, holding a beer bottle and a cigarette. I cringed, tried to scream, but my mouth was held fast by its tight covering of tape.

This couldn't be real.

Freddie, it's time to wake me up now. This isn't funny anymore.

My face was dripping with tears. Pain was radiating through my entire body. I could tell that I was still bleeding.

Freddie, please, help me-

My father and his beer bottle and cigarette, coming closer and closer. I lay still, tears running down my temples and pooling in my hair. I was in too much misery to even try to fight him off. Even if I'd tried, it would have been pointless. All I could do was lie there and whimper.

Weak. Worthless.

Freddie wasn't coming to save me. No one could save me from the monster approaching me.

He came closer. Closer. A laugh escaped his lips.

So tired. So much pain.

I deserved this. It was all my fault.

Closer.

And then?

Darkness.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "For The Love Of A Daughter" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 21: **_

_**I'll Never Leave You Alone.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

Even though it was the weekend, I woke up early the next morning, without even needing the help of my alarm. I opened my eyes and smiled as I recalled fleeting memories of the night before, as well as a dream I'd had about Princess Puckett. I yawned and rolled over, picking up my phone. As I clicked the unlock key, I kind of expected to find a call or text from Sam, but the screen was completely blank. No notifications. Oh well. I scrolled through my message threads until I found her name and shot her a quick good morning text, reminded her of our plans to grab a smoothie later, then curled back up in my bed and tried to force myself back into the dream that had starred my princess.

When I awoke again two hours later, at around eleven o'clock, I grabbed my phone eagerly and clicked it to see if she'd replied. She hadn't. Hmm. That was kind of strange. Even before our relationship had progressed to this level, even back when she had still completely hated me, she never took more than ten minutes to respond to a message. That was just part of her nature, with her phone permanently in her hand as if it were physically attached to her. Still, I brushed it off, not thinking too much of it. She probably had a good excuse for not answering me. Her phone was probably dead or something, plus I was sure that I would see her later. So, I pushed my concern to the back of my mind, and spent the rest of the morning playing my Galaxy Wars video game and working on a few technical things for iCarly.

Around three, I decided to call her and remind her again of our plans to get smoothies. We were supposed to meet up at four, and I wanted to make sure that still worked for her and that she didn't need to be picked up or anything. I scrolled through my contacts and clicked her name, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I typed a quick update for the website's HTML code.

Her phone didn't even ring, though. Not even once. It went directly to voicemail: "Hi, this is Sam Puckett, leave a message if it's important. Try not to make it important." Beep.

I hung up without leaving a message. This was strange. It occurred to me that I had never actually heard her voicemail prompt before, because she had never missed a call. Ever. Answering her phone was one of the few things that she could be counted on to do consistently.

Although I hated to admit it, I was starting to worry.

I finished what I was typing on the website and saved my edits before slamming my laptop shut, grabbing my keys and dashing across the hall to Carly's apartment. I knocked several times, and when I wasn't immediately let in, I knocked again, harder, with more urgency. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, the door swung open to reveal an irritated Carly, still dressed in her pajamas. I brushed past her into the apartment and she shut the door behind me.

"You know, Freddie, I can't just morph downstairs, you have to give me a second to get down here before you start beating the door down-"

"Forget that! This is important. Have you heard from Sam today?"

She looked at me quizzically and folded her arms across her chest. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Because I haven't heard from her since last night, and we were supposed to have plans today, and I just called her and she didn't pick up." I started pacing the floor by the couch, tossing my keys from hand to hand. "This is weird, don't you think? This isn't like her."

Carly cocked her head at me, reading me carefully. "Since when do you and Sam have plans together? I thought you hated each other! In fact, I _know _you hate each other. Why the sudden change? Since when do we have secrets from each other? Does this have something to do with you almost biting my head off last night?"

"Look, Carls, I said I was sorry about that, all right? It's just- last night, after the show, some things went down. Things I'm not entirely sure I can tell you about, or if I even understand myself. I just know that it's not like Sam to go completely AWOL without telling anyone where she is. Especially you." I sighed. "I don't know what to do."

Carly was still eyeing me suspiciously, but I could tell from the look on her face that she knew I had a point. "Okay, well, why don't we go by her house and see if she's there? That's a start. And if she's not, then we can start looking other places."

I nodded. "Okay. That sounds good."

"Just wait here for a minute while I go change clothes and get my keys. I'll be right back." She started to head up the stairs, then turned back to me. "Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

She gave me what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We'll find her."

Ten minutes later, we were in my car, speeding through the streets of Seattle toward Sam's house. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles were turning white. Carly kept stealing nervous glances at me, like she wanted to say something, but I kept my gaze steady on the road in front of me. I can't explain what it was, but I just knew in my gut that_ something_ was wrong, and that I had to get to Sam as soon as possible.

As we roared up in front of her shabby little house, I could tell something was different. Fresh ruts in the gravel driveway told me that someone else had recently been here, but whoever they were, they were gone now. As Carly and I trudged up to the steps of the house, I saw it: sitting in front of the trash cans were a cardboard case full of empty beer bottles, and an empty carton of cigarettes.

Sam's mother didn't smoke or drink, and I knew that Sam most definitely didn't.

That only left one person.

That had to mean that-

Oh my God. No.

I could feel my body starting to quake with panic. I knew that I couldn't let Carly in the house with me. I had no idea what awaited me in there, and that was no situation to just allow your best friend to walk right into. I turned to her, fighting to keep my voice calm. "You know what, Carls? Maybe it'd be best if you waited here, you know, kept a lookout. Just in case Mrs. Puckett comes home?"

She shot me a confused look, and for a moment I thought she was going to insist on staying with me, but, thankfully, she decided not to press the issue. "Um, okay, Freddie, whatever you say." She gave a nod, turned around and started back down the driveway. "I'll call you if I see anything, I guess."

"Yeah, just keep watch and let me know!" I called toward her retreating back. I turned back toward the house. I just stood there, all panicky, staring at the peeling paint on the door, trying to figure out what to do. My adrenaline was pumping, and I had this uncomfortable swooping feeling in the pit of my stomach that just wouldn't let up.

Finally, after several uncomfortable, uncertain minutes, I had to admit that I had to go inside. God only knew what kinds of things had happened to Sam after I had dropped her off the night before. She could be bleeding, lying on the floor unconscious. She could be hurt. Badly.

She could be in all kinds of trouble and completely powerless to save herself.

I drew a deep breath and started up the concrete steps.

I was going to do whatever it took to rescue my princess, come hell or high water, regardless of any sleeping dragons that might be holding her in their keep.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Mine" by Taylor Swift.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter 22: **_

_**If You Thought I'd Leave, Then You Were Wrong.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

I tried the doorknob, but, as I had expected, it was locked up tight and I had no idea how to pick it. That had always been one of Sam's talents, not mine. Instead, I twisted my body and pressed my shoulder up against the door, throwing my weight into it a couple of times until the hinges started to give. When they did, I was able to push it open the rest of the way and step inside, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim, dusty light inside the house.

I had only ever seen the house from the outside, and from what I'd seen on those few occasions, I hadn't developed very high hopes for what the interior of it might look like. As I stepped into the kitchen, gingerly picking my way across the floor, which was awash with empty fast food containers and beer bottles, I could see that my impressions had been more than correct. It was, in a word, filthy, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

I passed through the kitchen and made my way into the living room, and what I saw there stopped me dead in my tracks.

Cigarette butts littered the dirty carpet, along with glittering pieces of shattered bottles. A roll of duct tape and a bit of rope rested beside an empty pack of cigarettes on a lumpy old recliner. The couch had a dark spot on it that I realized, heart sinking miserably, was blood.

All of this could only mean one impossible, horrible thing; a conclusion that I had never even bothered to think that I'd have to reach.

I was certain that Samantha Riley Puckett, my sweet Sam, my perfect princess... I was certain that she was dead.

I didn't really know how to process that realization, so I just stood stock-still, feeling like I the only orderly thing in the middle of this chaotic wreck of a house. But I felt hot tears blind my eyes as I rapidly started coming as undone as my surroundings, my carefully constructed manly facade crumbling into disorder; a human display of entropy.

I sank to my knees on the grubby carpet, letting the tears flow down my cheeks as ugly, choking sobs rang out through my chest. I felt like every good thing inside of me was gone, leaving me with broken pieces where my heart had once been. I buried my face in my hands.

I huddled on the floor for several minutes, unable to get up. It was like the weight of my grief was pinning me in place, never to move again. If I hadn't been so distraught, I probably would have laughed at myself: after all, Sam and I had spent literal years hating each other, barely even able to tolerate the other's existence, and yet here I was, sobbing like a little kid at the loss of her. Every time I thought I had calmed down enough to maybe go back outside, or, at the very least, pull my phone out of my pocket and shoot Carly a text, I collapsed under a fresh wave of tears. I couldn't even begin to imagine a life without Sam. For almost ten years, we had always been what kept the other in line, with our constant teasing, bickering and picking with each other, but, underneath all of that, we had always had a mutual understanding and care for one another. Curled on that floor, I was starting to realize that our existences were intertwined more so than I could have ever dreamed of, like we were planets in the solar system, like she was the sun and I was the Earth. She had had the power to either light up my life or plunge it into darkness, and yet I still continued to revolve around her. But now, my sun was gone, and so my orbit had been thrown off, hurtling me from my normal axis straight into this galaxy of grief so fast that I couldn't even begin to hold on or try to stop it.

I don't know how much longer I stayed like that. But after awhile, I felt my breathing start to steady. Even so, I still sat on the floor, inhaling and exhaling deeply, running my hands through my hair and trying desperately to think of what to do next.

A soft shuffling and sort of mewing sound came from behind the couch. I pricked my ears up at first, but then decided to ignore it. I figured that it was probably just Frothy, Sam's cat, poking around and causing trouble like he tended to do.

A few moments later, I heard it again, only this time, it was definitely not the whine of a cat- it was the whimper of a girl.

I started to go to get up, thought better of it, and instead stayed on my hands and knees, crawling slowly toward the couch, fighting the urge to leap across the room and see what waited there.

I finally made it.

I found a tiny, half-dressed figure huddled against the wall, arms hugging her knees. Her tangled blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, which bore deep, angry-looking, fresh, circular burns. She looked up at me with cloudy blue eyes, puffy from exhaustion and tears, and quickly looked away, but didn't speak. I then realized her mouth was covered with a shiny silver piece of duct tape. Rope was wound around her wrists, cutting into her skin, and more duct tape was wrapped tightly around her ankles.

I struggled to find my voice. "Sam?" I whispered, raising my hand to brush her hair out of her eyes.

She shrank away from my touch, shaking her head.

"Sam," I repeated, pulling my hand back. "Sam, baby, it's me. It's Freddie. Look at me."

She did so cautiously, looking up at me from underneath her blonde eyelashes.

"See? It's just me. There's no one else here. I'm not going to hurt you, baby. Just let me help you, okay?"

She edged closer to me, and I saw the muscles in her face begin to relax.

"That's good, Sam. Good. Can you let me help you?"

She nodded.

"Okay, do you think it would be all right if I took the tape off of your mouth?"

She eyed me doubtfully.

"I'll be really careful, Sam. I'll take it off slow and I'll try and do it so it doesn't hurt. Okay? Can I do that?"

She hesitated for a moment, then gave another nod.

I reached over her knees and carefully grasped the edge of the tape at the corner of her mouth, using one hand to slowly lift it off her skin and the other to put gentle pressure on her lip, holding it so that the tape didn't pull on it too badly.

I finally peeled it all off, and I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it over my shoulder.

"Better, huh?" I asked. She managed to give me a weak smile. She started to clear her throat like she was trying to speak, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. She closed it, sighing, and dropped her chin to her chest in defeat.

"You don't have to talk right now, Sam," I assured her, patting her knee. "Let me just finish getting you out of all of this. We can always talk later."

Next, I went about untangling the rope from her wrists. They had been bound so tightly, her skin had bruises, and her hands were cold and almost purple. I rubbed each of her hands between mine, trying to will some warmth and blood flow back to them. When I was done with that, she reached up suddenly, cupping the side of my face in her palm, studying me thoughtfully.

I quickly realized what she was thinking. "This isn't a dream, Sam. I really am here." I reached up to cover her hand with my own, her cold fingers disappearing under mine. "It's all going to be okay now, understand? You're safe now. It's all right." Sam looked me in the eye and nodded again before dropping her hand.

Finally, I got to the tape around her ankles. It was on there really tight, but I eventually managed to peel it all off and get her legs free. I tossed the discarded tape and rope over the couch.

"Okay, we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

She shook her head. I had figured she probably either couldn't or wouldn't, and I honestly would have been surprised if she did.

"Is it okay if I pick you up and carry you? I'll be very careful. Promise."

She nodded, and then shivered.

"Cold?"

Another nod. I took my jacket off and helped her to lean forward so I could drape it over her shoulders. She winced a little when the fabric grazed her burns, but settled into it and pushed her arms into the sleeves. It was far too big for her; the cuffs extended a few inches past her fingertips. She looked so small and forlorn, it hurt me to look at her.

"All right, I'm gonna pick you up now. Ready?" She nodded again. "Okay. Here we go."

I slipped my left arm behind her back and my right underneath her knees, then carefully got to my feet. As I did so, I could see dried blood streaking down her inner thighs.

Everything started to click into place in my mind.

_Oh my God._

The blood spot on the couch.

_That rotten bastard._

The tape over her mouth, her bound hands and feet-

_That's it. I'm going to kill him._

I could feel my pulse start to quicken with rage, but I kept my face as devoid of expression as possible- I didn't want to risk upsetting Sam. As I stepped out from behind the couch, Sam reached up and wound her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest. I could feel her ribcage rapidly contracting and expanding against my arm when she breathed. We had barely gotten to the kitchen before I felt a dampness on my shirt: not only was Sam holding onto me like a little girl, all curled up in my arms, but she had started to cry, her tears falling hot and wet against my sternum.

When we made it outside, I trudged down the gravel driveway, still cradling Sam and fighting my own tears that had made their way back into my eyes. Carly was leaning against the car door, giggling about something on her phone. She heard me coming and looked up at us, still laughing, but when she saw Sam, the smile slid off her face immediately.

"Oh my God, what-" she began, but she stopped when she saw the look on my face.

"Carly," I managed, shifting Sam's weight in my arms, "do you think that maybe you could drive this time? Bushwell. My mom is home right now. She'll help us."

She nodded and turned away to get into the car. I caught a glimpse of her wiping a stray tear off her cheek, her face a mask of pain and concern.

I balanced Sam in one arm to open the back door, then started to ease her down to place her onto the seat, figuring she could have the back to herself and I'd sit up front with Carly. She realized what I was doing and tightened her grip around my neck, surprising me when she began whimpering into my ear, "Please, Freddie. Don't leave me. Please." I could hear that her voice was thick with tears. "Stay with me."

She sounded so pitiful, so utterly helpless. My heart felt like it had just completely shattered. I adjusted my grip on her, swinging her back up into my arms, then climbed into the backseat and shut the door with her nestled in my lap.

Carly started the car and we began rumbling down the driveway.

"Stay with me, Freddie," she whispered again. I could hear her voice shaking with emotion and fatigue.

"I'm right here, baby," I soothed, stroking her hair, running my thumb over her temple. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I know it took me forever to write this, but y'all got a good, long, angsty chapter this time. Yay, right?

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Emergency" by Paramore.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	23. Chapter 23

_**Chapter 23:**_

_**I Never Wanna Lose You.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

By the time Carly roared into the parking lot of the Bushwell Plaza, the brakes squealing in protest as she slammed the car to a halt in an empty space, Sam had either passed out or fallen asleep- I couldn't be sure which one. At least she looked somewhat peaceful now- that was good, right? That was something. Still, I had to get her upstairs to my mother. She needed more help than I could give her, and even though my mom could be overbearing, overprotective, and downright annoying, she _was _a nurse. I knew that she would do anything she could to help Sam.

Carly yanked the keys from the ignition so fast and so hard, I would not have been the least bit surprised if she had managed to rip the starter completely out of the dashboard. She hopped out, slamming her door behind her, then came around back and opened my door, helping support Sam while I got out. We just stood there for a minute, leaning against the car. I gazed up from Sam's sleeping face to Carly's. She looked like an absolute wreck, wisps of hair whipping her in the face with every gust of wind, her eyes all puffy, and tears running down her cheeks and ruining her makeup, something she would never have let happen under normal circumstances.

But then again, I guessed seeing your best friend in the entire world beaten, burned and bloody was not exactly something that happened under normal circumstances.

We started walking through the parking lot, and soon came to the doors of the apartment building, Carly stepping in front of me to hold them open so I could focus on carrying Sam as carefully as possible. As we walked into the lobby, Lewbert stopped mopping the floor to look up at us, opening his mouth to screech something like he usually did, but when he saw Sam's limp body cradled in my arms, he swallowed hard, and to his extreme credit, he didn't say a word. He just nodded and pressed the button to buzz us up to my floor. "Thank you," I mouthed at him as we stepped into the elevator. He nodded again and resumed his place behind the desk, sitting down heavily in his chair and cradling his head in shaking hands.

Carly and I rode up to the eighth floor in utter silence, our steady breathing the only sound in the tiny cubicle. Soon enough, the doors opened, and we stepped out and walked the few steps to my apartment.

"Carly," I whispered, "My key is on the ring."

She looked at me, puzzled, as if she had no idea what I was talking about, then turned her gaze to the keyring she had gripped in her hand ever since she'd stopped the car. As she peeled her fingers away from it and started fumbling for the right key to open the door, I could see that she had been holding it so tight, the metal had left perfect imprints in her palm.

My heart sank. Oh my God, I hated myself for dragging Carly into this. She was doing well for right now, I had to give her that, but I knew that she had lead such a sheltered life, she was bound to snap eventually. She looked absolutely terrified.

After several failed attempts at cramming the key into the lock, she finally fitted it in and the door swung open. My mother sat on the couch, her back to us, reading an Aggressive Parenting magazine. Carly entered first, with me right behind her, and when she dropped my keys onto the little table just inside the apartment, my mom whipped her head around.

"Fr-" she began, but she immediately stopped when she saw Sam's battered body tangled in my arms.

She hurled herself off the couch and hurried over to us, seeming like she couldn't possibly get there fast enough. Carly turned and slumped against the wall, burying her face in her knees.

In an instant, my mom was by my side. "Freddie," she whispered, staring down at Sam and laying a hand on her forehead, "What on Earth happened to Samantha?"

All the way here, I had planned what I was going to say, but the concern in my mom's voice knocked me senseless, and, all of a sudden, I realized that I couldn't remember the dialogue I had so carefully planned. "Sam," I choked out, my voice thick with rising tears, "She- uh- she got hurt, Mom. She's hurt real bad- can you help her? Please?"

"Oh, Freddie," she sighed, stroking my cheek with the back of her hand.

"Please, Mom. I'm begging you. Please- I didn't know where else to go..." My voice broke off.

In that moment, my mom was no longer a mother, and she went into full-blown nurse mode. "Give her to me, Freddie," she said, holding her arms out.

"Are you sure you can carry her?" I asked doubtfully. My mom wasn't exactly the strongest person in the world. She could barely carry a five pound bag of flour in the supermarket.

She chuckled humorlessly. "I'm a nurse, honey," she replied, as if that answered my question. "Give her to me."

I lifted Sam, still tucked into my jacket, into my mother's waiting arms. To my surprise, she took hold of her easily, cradling her against her chest like she was a child. She paused for a moment, looking down at Sam, and seemed to lose her cool for a second, her eyes welling up with tears.

That's when I realized- to my mother, Sam _was _just a child. When she looked at her, she probably saw all of the children that had ever been in her care, hurt to the point where they were sometimes beyond recognition. But those hadn't been like this. Those had been work. She had never had a personal connection to them like she did Sam. As much as they hated each other, I knew that, deep down, my mom cared for Sam like she was her own daughter. As she held her, she ceased to be a nurse for a moment; suddenly, she was in mom-mode again, looking down at this broken little girl cradled in her arms. I could tell, looking into her face, that this was different for her.

But, just as quickly as she'd stumbled, she regained herself, seeming to snap out of her reverie as she carried Sam into the living room.

"Freddie," she began, her voice full of authority, "I need to you to go get a clean sheet from the linen closet, and then get my first-aid kit from the bathroom. Not the portable one, the big one."

I nodded and walked down the hall to do as I was told. I pulled a sheet from the stack in the closet, and then grabbed the first-aid kit from its spot just inside the the bathroom door. I brought the supplies back to the living room, where my mom sat on the couch, still clutching Sam in her arms. When she saw me, she stood back up.

"Okay, Freddie, lay that sheet over the couch for me, please."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because I don't want her to bleed all over it."

I swallowed. Oh.

I spread the sheet over the length of the couch, and then my mom placed Sam gently on it.

"Freddie, I'm going to just check over her first, and figure out what all I need to do, so while I do that, why don't you go see if you can do something for Carly?" She jerked her head toward the door, where Carly was still huddled against the wall. "I have enough on my plate with Sam, I don't need another one passing out."

I nodded and headed over to Carly, then knelt down by her. She was chalk white, and I realized that my mom was right- she _did _look like she was going to faint. "Carly?" I asked.

She lifted her head.

"Come on, get up. I'll take you to get a smoothie, okay?"

She shook her head and eyed Sam. "We can't just leave her, Freddie."

"I know, but we'll be right back. She's not even going to know that we left. My mom will take care of her. We aren't going to be much help to her if we can't get ourselves together. So come on, let's just go get a smoothie, regroup, and then we'll come back. Okay?"

She nodded, and I held out a hand and helped her to her feet before snatching my keys off the table where they'd been discarded. "Mom, we'll be right back!" I called. "Call me if anything happens, okay?"

She already had the first-aid kit open and was carefully examining Sam's burns, but she turned away from Sam for a moment to nod at me. "I will, honey. Go."

Carly and I stood there for a moment, watching my mom fuss over Sam, and then left, closing the door behind us with a click.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This chapter was pretty difficult to write, and I might end up editing it some, so keep checking back in the next couple of days. Also, the next chapter will be told by a character we haven't yet heard from, so stayed tuned! It'll be a good one.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Stay" by Miley Cyrus.

I hope you enjoyed it! As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	24. Chapter 24

_**Chapter 24:**_

_**I Will Try To Fix You.**_

_**(Mrs. Benson's POV)**_

I stared at the door until I heard it close, and I didn't move until I heard footsteps go back down the hallway and end at the elevator, which soon dinged its arrival before humming its way down to the lobby. I sighed in relief. Now that my son and Carly were gone, I could start to get down to business.

Normally, I didn't mind other people watching me tend to the sick. I was a nurse who worked in a busy hospital, after all; the time I got to spend completely alone with patients, under no scrutiny by doctors or supervisors, was minimal. But even though I was used to being watched, I had had my reasons for sending Fredward and Carlotta away: I didn't want either of them to see the extent of their friend's injuries. And, God, did they appear to be extensive.

I knelt down on the carpet beside Sam, snapping a pair of sterile latex gloves from my kit over my hands, trying to decide what I should do first. I reasoned that a head-to-toe exam would be best, taking my time and treating things as I came to them, so that I could be certain that there was nothing I overlooked. I began by gently lifting her head, carefully inspecting her scalp and face for bruises or abrasions. She had a few red spots underneath her hair, as if someone had pulled on it very hard, but those would fade in time. Her face was pretty clean, for the most part; she only had one minor scratch above her eyebrow, and her lips were swollen and slightly bruised, but those things could heal on their own, and didn't require any special treatment.

I shed my gloves and went to the kitchen to get a pair of scissors, a bowl of soapy water and a washcloth. I knew that I would need them for what I had to do next.

Returning to Samantha's side, I placed the bowl and cloth gently on the coffee table, trying not to make any noise, just in case she came to. I put another pair of gloves on, lifted the hem of her dirty, bloody T-shirt, and used the scissors to begin to cut it away from her body. As the fabric parted over her skin, I could see that she had numerous scars covering her torso, but when I made the last snip and her shirt completely fell away, that was when I saw the true extent of the damage.

She had many, many burns. Dozens, at the very least; possibly even more. Some were on her chest, sprinkled over her collarbone and down her sternum, but the majority of them were concentrated on her shoulders and upper arms. Easy access, I figured, then shuddered at the thought. Some of the burns looked fairly fresh, but most looked to be a couple of days old, at least, and appeared to be infected. My stomach turned, but I swallowed hard, determined to finish what I had started.

With the soapy water, I carefully and thoroughly cleaned all of the burns, and used the washcloth to gently push away the flakes of dried skin and blood around them. When that was done, I took a tube of Bacitracin from my first aid kit and applied a small amount to each one before covering each of them with a small bandage- they weren't yet healed enough to be left unprotected. I then came to her wrists, which had deep bruises on them, the skin inflamed and raw in places from what looked like rope burn. I cleaned the angry marks carefully and applied more Bacitracin, just as I had done to her shoulders, but instead of a bandage, which might irritate her skin even further, I wrapped each wrist in gauze and secured the dressing to itself with medical tape. Once I was done with all of that, I took the free end of the sheet she lay on and tucked it around her from hip to shoulder, so that she wouldn't be completely exposed when she woke.

As I made my way down her body, checking her over with scrutiny, like I'd done to Freddie many times, I could streaks of dried blood on her thighs. Puzzled, I gently shifted one of her legs to the side, and that was when I saw the source of the blood.

I knew immediately what had happened to her.

I fell back on my heels in shock, trying to keep my breathing steady as horribly vivid memories came rushing back to me: being in college and going with a girlfriend to a frat party, where I met a cute boy who offered me a drink, and the next thing I remembered being waking up later on the floor of his bathroom, half-clothed, bleeding, scared and alone. I had managed to get to my feet, and I had frantically stumbled my way out of the dormitory, nearly knocking down a guy on the way out. He had taken me to get some coffee, calmed me down, and then escorted me to the police station to file a report. Two months later, the boy from the party was behind bars, and the boy with the coffee had graduated and gone into the Army.

Seven months later, I had just turned twenty, and the day after my birthday, on February 4, 1994, Fredward Karl Benson was born in Seattle.

Freddie had always known that I'd had him when I was very young, but had often asked, when he was a little boy, why he didn't have a father like all of the other kids did. I hadn't known how to tell him, so I just... didn't. I avoided the question whenever he asked. I mean, I loved him. I wanted to protect him, and I thought that I was doing what was best. After all, how do you tell your only son something like that? How do you even begin to make him understand?

I shook my head, patting Sam's knee absentmindedly. I now realized that that was a conversation I needed to have with Fredward, and that it was long overdue. The importance of it seemed even greater to me now as I stared at Samantha.

I couldn't treat anything below her waist, because any intervention on my part would destroy precious evidence, so I just tucked the sheet the rest of the way around her, taking care to cover her completely, and took off my gloves before closing my first-aid kit.

She still hadn't come to, so I moved around the side of the couch to be by her head again, and with my fingers I began to gently untangle the snarls that had worked their way into her blonde curls, humming softly as I did so.

After a few moments, I felt a cold hand on mine, startling me. I looked down to see Samantha's wide blue eyes. They were confused, and full of shock and fear, but they were definitely very much awake.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Uh-oh! Some surprises y'all weren't expecting, I bet, huh?

I'm going to try and keep posting two chapters a week. I outlined a few today, and I'm really excited for you all to read the rest of this story.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Fix You" by Coldplay.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	25. Chapter 25

_**Chapter 25:**_

_**I've Been Bruised And I've Been Broken.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

Sinking. That was the last thing I remembered.

I fought to recall a hazy memory, tucked away so far and deep in my mind that it almost seemed like a dream. It came back to me slowly and jaggedly in little snapshots, like a slideshow on a projector that wasn't running right. At home. Tied up. Being freed and swung into a pair of strong arms that carried me out of the house. I couldn't remember who the arms belonged to. Being held in them and tucked into their accompanying lap inside a car. Crying like a child. Begging not to be left.

Since I'd never fainted before, I hadn't realized at the time that that was what was happening to me. I'd just thought for sure that I was dying, but for some reason, the idea of that didn't scare me as much as it had used to. I somehow managed to figure out that whoever had taken me was going to keep me safe; cradling me in their arms, rocking me down into sweet darkness to let me go from this place in peace. Once I realized that, I had let the tiredness and pain take me over, too tired to fight them off anymore, just letting myself fall beneath them as easily as walking into the ocean and allowing the waves to close over my head.

Sinking.

Into blissful oblivion.

But, either fortunately or unfortunately, I was coming to realize that I was still alive, being torn from my rest, waking up to a figure stroking my hair in a place that seemed strange, but familiar at the same time.

I could tell that I was lying down on something. It took me another second to realize that I actually was conscious, not dreaming, and so had control over my body. I struggled to move my fingers as the last remnants of sleep escaped me, then finally managed to clamp my hand down on the arm of the figure kneeling on the floor by my head.

It moved, turning to face me, but my eyes were still blurry from tears and exhaustion and I couldn't make out who it was. I was blinking furiously, trying to clear my vision, when it hit me: no strong arms encircled me, no lap held me fast and secure. I wasn't in the car. I didn't know where I was, but it wasn't that place of safety that I had curled into, clung to desperately until I couldn't hold on anymore.

I could only draw one conclusion: I was certain that I was back home, and that the figure beside me was my father. God only knew what he had done to me while I was out, and only He knew what would happen to me now that I had been dragged back into my own personal hell.

I tightened my grip on the figure's arm, feeling my heartbeat start to race. If I could just distract him long enough, I thought, maybe I could make a break for it. I used my other arm to try and push myself up off of whatever I was laying on, but he placed his other hand firmly on my shoulder, forcing me to lie back down.

"No," I whimpered. "No! Let me go! Please, Daddy, let me go!" I squeezed my eyes shut and shielded my face with my forearms, hot tears smearing against my skin.

"Oh, Samantha," a voice sighed.

Samantha? Not Sammy?

Dad?

"Samantha?"

I jumped a little at the second mention of my full name. I lowered my arms cautiously, but kept my eyes shut.

Not even my own mom ever used my real name. Hell, she had rarely called me by any name at all. The only person to ever call me that was Freddie's mother. But that was ridiculous. I mean, why would Mrs. Benson be at my house? Where was my dad? I had to be hallucinating. That was the only logical explanation I could think of.

"Sweetie, open your eyes," the voice asked politely. Definitely not my father. I could feel warm breath against my face, smelling of mint and vanilla. It kind of reminded me of Freddie. Maybe I wasn't hallucinating after all. This was comforting to me, but it wasn't enough to make me do what I was told.

I shook my head, pressing my lips into a firm line.

"Look at me." This was said with more authority. Not anger, just firmness. Like it was someone who was used to being listened to.

I cautiously raised one eyelid halfway, then the other. My vision had cleared, and I could see that I wasn't in my house. I didn't know where I was, but I felt my muscles start to relax as I took in the fact that, at least for the time being, I wasn't at home.

"Samantha, look at me, honey."

I turned my head ever so slightly to my left, and saw Mrs. Benson looking up at me.

* * *

><p>"Mrs. Benson?" I asked. My voice still sounded weak.<p>

"Yes."

"Where- where am I? How did I get here?"

She sighed and began stroking my hair away from my face. "You don't remember?"

I shook my head, then turned towards her a little bit more so that my temple was pressed more firmly into her palm. I'd always liked it when people touched my hair. It was soothing, somehow.

"This afternoon, Freddie was supposed to have plans with you. He texted and called you several times to remind you, but you never replied. So, he got worried. It's not like you to not answer. He and Carly drove over to your place to look for you, and Carly waited outside while Freddie went into the house, where he found you, all bloody and tied up. He got you out and carried you to the car, and they brought you to me."

Things were starting to click into place, puzzle pieces snapping neatly together in my mind. The arms. The lap. All Freddie's.

"Where are Freddie and Carly? Are they here?" I asked, feeling panicky. I hoped they hadn't seen me like this any more than they'd had to.

"I sent them across the street to get a smoothie. I didn't think that you'd want them to see you while I took care of you."

I relaxed a little.

"I patched you up as best I could," she continued, "But your injuries are pretty bad. Now that you're awake, I think it's best if I take you to the hospital-"

Hospital?

Oh, no.

"No!" I whispered fiercely, trying in vain to keep my voice down. It quickly rose to a high-pitched shriek. "No! Please, I'm fine!"

"Samantha, you need treatment! And once they get a look at you, I'm sure the police will want to take a statement from you-"

Police?

I felt my blood run cold.

"You can't take me there, you can't let them see me!" I pleaded. "If the police find out, I'm dead, okay, I'm dead! He told me he'd kill me if I ever told anyone!"

"Who? Who told you that?" She was continuing to run a hand over my head, trying to calm me, but I was too freaked out to be soothed.

"My dad! My fucking dad!" I exploded. "He just got out of prison on parole, and I'm the whole reason he went there in the first place! That's why he did this to me, because I was too stupid to keep my damn mouth shut! I deserve this, okay? It was all my fault! And if I tell anyone what happened, he'll kill me. He will." I was shaking by now, teeth clacking together. I pulled the sheet that covered me tightly around myself.

Mrs. Benson just stared at me, mouth open, in shock at my outburst. "Samantha, you have to go to the hospital. You need strong anti-infection medication for those burns, and based on the amount of blood you had on you when Freddie got you here, there's a high chance that you have internal injuries. You'll also need emergency birth control so you don't conceive. There's so much that you need that I can't give you here."

I stared at her, mortified, one specific sentence cemented in my mind. "You mean, you know that I... um..." I trailed off.

She took both my hands in hers. "Yes, Samantha, I know that your father raped you."

Memories of the past few days came flooding back to me with that one little statement, hitting me so fast that it made me gasp.

_My father. Raped me._

I pulled away from her and sat up. My mouth was moving worthlessly, wordlessly, little choking noises coming out of the back of my throat. _Rape. _Such an ugly word. Such a shameful one. Something that only happened to other girls, something constantly talked about on the news, a terrible statistic that I was now a part of. I felt my eyes spill over and I angrily ground my fists into them, staring into the clean white bandages wound neatly around my wrists.

When I finally looked up, Marissa was still kneeling next to me, gazing at me with pain-filled eyes. We just sat and looked at each other for a few moments, until finally she spoke up.

"I know how you feel," she murmured, wringing her hands.

I stared at her in disbelief. "Don't say that. I know you don't mean it. How could you possibly know how I feel? You have no idea what this feels like."

"Yes, I do," she replied, casting her eyes downward and picking a piece of lint off of her khakis.

"Oh, really?" I spat. I laughed humorlessly. "And how is that?"

She twisted her rings, cleared her throat. "Because, Samantha, once upon a time, I was raped, too." She looked up at me, chuckling a little at the shocked expression on my face. "Oh, yes, about... seventeen years ago. Seventeen years and nine months."

Seventeen years and nine months?

Freddie was seventeen.

_Oh._

She watched me as I pieced everything together, then began again. "So you see, sweetie, I do understand. I know every emotion you're feeling right now: Hurt. Anger. Disbelief. Shame. I've been through it all. And you can either choose to run from it, to not turn your father in, to deny yourself of justice and be a victim for the rest of your life, living in constant fear under your father's thumb, or you can make the decision that you are worth more than that. You can send that bastard back to prison where he belongs, and you can be the survivor that I know you are."

My mind was reeling. So much had happened, I just wanted to sink back under those comforting waves of rest and sleep forever, so that I didn't have to feel anything anymore.

But I couldn't do that. There was air in my lungs and a steady pulse in my veins, constantly reminding me that I was alive.

I was here.

Sam Puckett is not weak. She is no victim.

I knew what I had to do.

"Mrs. Benson?"

"Yes?"

I swallowed hard.

"Take me to the hospital."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I know it's taken me forever to update, but I have the next chapters outlined and I plan on writing them fairly quickly. You guys have been so patient with me, and I really appreciate that. I've been writing this story for almost a year, and I promise that I will update frequently and finish it as soon as I can.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Everything You're Not" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	26. Chapter 26

_**Chapter 26:**_

_**Please Stay Forever With Me.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

After we got back from the Groovy Smoothie, Carly and I rode the elevator up to our floor in complete silence, neither of us interested in making idle small talk. It seemed pointless. I dropped her off at her apartment, breaking the quiet by shakily promising to call her when Sam woke up. After she went inside, I stopped in front of my own door, sighing heavily, feeling exhausted, not to mention terrified. So much had happened in the past couple of weeks, and especially today. I liked things to be neat and organized, everything chugging along steadily and smoothly, leading my life according to schedule with precision and accuracy. But then Sam came along, and she changed that, ripped away all of my carefully laid plans and tore a hole roughly the size and shape of herself right in the middle of my perfect little life.

It wasn't that I resented her presence or that I didn't want to be there for her- in fact, nothing couldn't be further from the truth. It was just that I wasn't an easygoing, spontaneous person- I didn't react well to sudden change- and learning to deal with all of this and go with the flow was definitely something that was going to take some getting used to.

I slumped against the door, enjoying the way the cool wood felt pressed up against the tense muscles in my back. I couldn't bring myself to go in yet, so I just stood there, running my hand through my hair, feeling a vein jump in my temple. I sighed. Easy, Benson. You've got to keep your cool. Sam needs you, and you know she needs you, so now is really not the time for a nervous breakdown. Just breathe in. Breathe out. You've got this. You're okay.

I jumped as I felt the door open out from behind me, almost losing my balance.

"Freddie?" a voice rasped.

I turned around, slowly, and found Sam standing there, looking tiny and forlorn all bundled up in a pair of my sweatpants and a big sweatshirt. My mom had obviously done what she could to clean her up, but she still looked like hell.

"Hey, baby..." I breathed, taking a small step closer to her. I didn't want to touch her yet- I didn't want to freak her out. Best to let her make the first move, I thought. "Sam, are- are you okay?"

She nodded stiffly, as if she'd practiced the motion, hair falling into her eyes, and I watched as her face just crumbled. She stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close so I could rest my chin on her head and kiss her hair. I felt her mumble something into my chest, but I couldn't make out what it was. I pulled away slightly, but didn't let go of her. "What did you say?"

She looked up at me, struggling to keep her face in a fierce mask of strength even as her eyes started welling over. "I said, don't leave me again. You promised you wouldn't and you totally did. You have to promise to stay."

It was so painful to look at her. If hearts could literally break, I swear that's what happened to mine. I felt it, deep within me- something just shattered, something I didn't even know was there, and I didn't know if it could be fixed. "Oh, baby," I breathed, cradling her cheek in my hand, "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I will never do that again, Sam, okay? I won't let anything happen to you."

"You swear?" she held on tighter, even though it must have hurt her- I could feel her flinch as she tried to draw me closer.

"Yeah, I swear."

As we stood there, my mom came out of the apartment and locked the door behind her, carrying a tote bag and a folder of papers. I was confused. "Are we going somewhere?"

My mother nodded gravely, gesturing toward Sam with her folder. "Samantha needs to go to the hospital, Freddie. I did what I could, but she needs more care than I can give her."

Sam started shaking, her entire body trembling against mine. "I don't want to go," she pleaded, her voice breaking off.

My mom shook her head, and I was surprised to see tears welling up in her own eyes- my mom wasn't exactly one to cry, and she'd never been Sam's biggest fan. It was strange. "Now, Samantha," she began, her voice thick with emotion, "We've already agreed that this is what's best, remember? You're going to be okay, sweetheart. You just have to let us help you, dear, and I can't do that here."

Sam sighed into my jacket. "Fine," she said, the familiar hard edge of stubbornness setting back into her voice, "I'll go. But only if Freddie comes with me. I need him." She buried her face deeper into my chest and tightened her grip on me. Shit. I shifted my weight uncomfortably, twisting one of Sam's curls around my finger. Going with her was pretty much the last thing that I wanted to do- I was exhausted, and had seen way more than my fair share of gruesome things for one day- maybe even a lifetime. I didn't want to go to the hospital with her and have to see her relive all of that. I didn't want to watch her be in pain anymore. But as I stood there, Sam clinging to me, I looked over her shoulder at my mother, and the glare she was giving me clearly stated that I had no say in the matter. Ugh. Dammit. I was starting to get tired of having to be the strong one. I wanted a few minutes to myself to process everything. But, I reminded myself, I promised her I wouldn't leave her. And I had never been one to break a promise.

I kissed Sam's temple. "Of course I'll go with you, baby. You kidding? There's no way in hell I'd miss that."

Sam let out a tight chuckle. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be quite the show." She broke our embrace so she was just standing next to me, but she still had a death grip on my hand. "Well, I guess we'd better get this shit over with. Let's roll."

* * *

><p>An hour later, we were all at the hospital, Carly and Spencer included- they'd met us there because I hadn't remembered to call Carly until after we'd already left. As soon as we'd gotten to the emergency room, they'd whisked her away to have her rape kit done, so they sent me to the waiting room with Spencer- girls only thing, apparently- and, God, was I thankful that they did, because that was something I definitely had not wanted to witness. Spencer tried to lighten the mood with stories about what he and Socko had done last weekend, but he gave up after awhile- I think he could tell that I wasn't really into it. Finally, I saw the doctors leave with her completed kit, so I got up and walked to the room, shaking the stiffness out of my legs.<p>

I opened the door as quietly as I could, and I could see that she was in the hospital bed, wearing a gown and covered in a ton of blankets- shock, I figured. I noticed she was crying again, hugging her knees to her chest. Carly was sitting beside her, trying to get her to drink a smoothie she'd brought her, but she was crying pretty hard and having none of it. When she heard me come in and close the door behind me, her head snapped up and she instantly reached out for me, like a little kid wanting to be picked up.

I started to step over to her, but a nurse I hadn't even noticed stopped between me and the bed, blocking my path.

"Name?" she asked, eyeing me sternly.

"Fredward Benson," I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets. I didn't recognize this nurse. She wasn't one of my mom's coworkers, and she hadn't been there when we'd come in.

She looked me up and down with disapproval. "And your business with Ms. Puckett is...?"

"I just- my mom and I brought her here. I figured since the doctors left it'd be okay to see her." I looked up at the nurse. "Is... is it not okay for me to see her?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"No, as a matter of fact, it isn't," she replied curtly. "Samantha is very traumatized, and until she speaks with the police and we can rule out who did this to her, male visitors are out of the question." I looked over her shoulder and saw that Sam was still reaching for me, just more insistently now, her chin trembling and her eyes wet with tears.

I tore my eyes away from her and opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"Everyone is a suspect at this point, Mr. Benson. Any contact with a male could further destabilize Samantha. I'm sure you understand."

I scoffed, a little taken aback. She had to be kidding me. "Are you fucking serious?" I exclaimed.

"I-"

"A suspect? Do you really think that I could have done this to her? You don't know me, lady! You don't know what kind of man I am. I'm one of her best friends, you know that? I've known her since we were kids. I'm the one who went looking for her! I found her! I'm the one who practically fucking rescued her! I'm the one who brought her here! I love her." The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I realized that I didn't want to. It was true- I loved her. "And now, you are going to stand there and be a complete condescending bitch to me and tell me that I am a fucking _suspect_? That I'm going to 'traumatize' and 'destabilize' her? Fuck. No." I was shaking with anger, grinding my teeth. I didn't cuss often, but this was too much. I had had enough bullshit for one day.

"How dare you-"

I cut her off. "Look at her!" I shouted, pointing across the room at Sam. "Does she look like me being here is 'traumatizing' her, or does she look like she wants to see me?"

The nurse turned around to see Sam struggling across the room, supported by a tearful Carly. She seemed to forget me for a moment. "Samantha, you must get back in bed immediately!"

"Don't want to," she whispered. She looked exhausted. She could barely even form coherent sentences. "Freddie... didn't do it. Never. Dad did. Dad always did. Freddie saved me." She finally reached me and let go of Carly, almost losing her balance, but I caught her by the arm before she could. "Freddie... not a suspect. Freddie is good. He'd never hurt me." She kissed me on the cheek and embraced me again, my chin resting on her head. I could feel her crying against my chest, her tears making my shirt damp. I slung my arms around her waist as usual, stroking her back with one of my hands. Carly looked up at me, nodded, and practically ran from the room. I couldn't blame her. I knew that this was a lot to take in.

The nurse seemed to snap back to reality and began trying to pull Sam away from me. "Let's go, Sam. Back in bed." She turned to me with an almost evil smile. "And as for you-"

Right at that moment, two cops burst through the door, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me out of the room. I could hear Sam crying- "Freddie, no, you promised!"

"I'll be back, baby, okay?" I shouted. "I'll be back, it's going to be all right!"

The door slammed behind me, and the cops started hustling me down the hall.

"All right," they growled, "Let's get you down to the station."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Sorry about how long it took me to update! It's now officially been over a year since I began writing this story, and I've loved every moment of it. That being said, I'm going to try to update weekly and get it finished. I'm sure y'all are getting tired of waiting. I'm also considering writing a sequel to it, so if that's something you'd be interested in, please make sure to let me know.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn" by Sleeping With Sirens.

I hope you enjoyed it! As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	27. Chapter 27

_**Chapter 27:**_

_**I'll Be There For You Through It All.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

As I was pulled out of the hospital room, I could still hear Sam shrieking behind the closed door, and it was a sound that made me feel like I had daggers being driven into every inch of my body. I had an insatiable, ferocious urge to go to her, to comfort her. She _needed _me. I struggled against the officers, trying to plant my feet on the slick tile floor so that I could wrestle my way out of their grip, but they held me incredibly tight and continued to force me to go with them.

"Look, guys, you don't understand-" I pleaded, continuing to try in vain to pull away from them. "She's my girlfriend, I love her, I didn't do anything-"

"That's a lovely story," one of the officers huffed. "I think it will sound especially good in the interrogation room, don't you think so, Jed?"

Jed cackled as they dragged me down the hall. "Absolutely, Arnie, and I think that where he's going, spinning a yarn might come in handy."

I slumped against them, defeated. There was no way in hell I was going to manage to get away from them. The best I could hope to do would be to explain myself down at the station and hope to God they believed me.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing with my son?!" A voice bellowed from the end of the hall.

The officers wheeled around so fast that my legs got tangled together, and I would have fallen over if they hadn't been holding onto me so tight. I saw my mother standing several yards away, flanked by a couple of doctors and nurses, her lips pressed into a firm line. She looked absolutely furious.

"Look, lady, this is official police business, so why don't you just stand aside, there-" Jed began.

"_Fuck_ the police!" My mother hollered. I couldn't help but snicker; I'd never heard my mother swear before, so it was pretty funny to hear, even in my current circumstances. "Just where, exactly, are you going with my Freddie?"

"He was seen entering the room of a rape victim without authorization, and he was removed to reduce the chance of traumatization to her and is currently being transferred to the station for questioning until we rule out that he is not the perpetrator."

"Oh, my God," my mom muttered, running her hand through her hair. She turned to one of the doctors on her left. "Dr. Addison, who's her attending nurse right now? Nancy? Oh, that woman has always hated me, I bet she had something to do with this-"

"Look, ma'am, this is nice and all, but we've got work to do, so-" Arnie began to turn away and try to pull me with him. I shot my mom a pleading look. Finally, Dr. Addison stepped up to us.

"Guys, I know you're trying to do your job and I appreciate that, but have you been briefed? Did you even read the case report?"

Jed and Arnie hemmed and hawed before answering with a simultaneous, sheepish "No."

"Fantastic," the doctor sighed. "Well, if you had taken five minutes to do so, you would know that this boy has an alibi for the time the crime was committed, his DNA doesn't even match that found on the victim, and not only that, but he found her and brought her to us. In actuality, Freddie saved that girl's life. If he hadn't gotten to her when he did, there is no doubt in my mind that she would have succumbed to her injuries. She would not have made it."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "R-really?" I stammered. I had known Sam was really hurt, but I didn't think it was that bad. Knowing that she could have died only made me want to see her more, but I didn't struggle against them any further. I just waited, hoping that things would take a turn in my favor.

Dr. Addison turned to me and smiled warmly. "Yes, really, Freddie. You did the right thing bringing her to us. You should feel proud." He turned back to the police officers. "So you see, you are, in fact ,trying to apprehend someone who has done absolutely no wrong. If anything, Freddie should be treated like a hero. I must insist that you release him immediately."

Jed and Arnie let go of my arms and I immediately dashed the few feet to my mother, who quickly wrapped her arms around me and glared at them with such ferocity I was frankly surprised that they didn't burst into flames right where they stood.

After returning my mother's hug, I turned to the doctor. "So, can I see Sam now? I just... I really want to see her."

He looked sadly at me and clapped me on the back. "She's asleep now. Let her get some rest. Tomorrow, Freddie. I promise."

* * *

><p>The next day, I stood in the hallway outside of the hospital room, staring at Sam's name written on a little whiteboard that hung on the door. Even though the nurse who'd called security had been reprimanded and I now had a fancy little badge that guaranteed me access to visit Sam, I was still nervous about going back in. She'd been so upset when I'd gotten dragged away- Carly had told me later that the doctor had had to sedate her because she kept trying to get out of bed to come find me and had ripped a few of her stitches out.<p>

I stood there for a good five minutes, running my thumb along the edge of my plastic badge and trying to get myself together. I was starting to realize that even though Sam had been through an incredible ordeal, and undoubtedly needed me... I needed her, too. I'd never felt like this about anyone before, and it was terrifying.

I was still standing there, just about to reach for the door handle, when I heard footsteps behind me. I felt my muscles tense up, remembering what had happened earlier, and I turned around slowly, cautiously, ready to run just in case it happened again.

I found myself face to face with Spencer.

"You okay there, bud?" he asked, cocking his head at me.

I cleared my throat. "Y-yeah. Yeah, man, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," he observed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

I sighed heavily, not able to bring myself to look him in the eye. "I'm just worried, I guess. So much has happened, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," he replied. He stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. "Are you gonna be okay in there?"

"I- I'm not sure," I answered. I figured I might as well be honest.

"I am," Spencer said softly. "You and her both. You're gonna be alright."

I let out a shaky breath and finally looked up at him. "I love her, Spence."

He looked at me, his eyes kind. "I know you do, kiddo. I know you do."

* * *

><p>Spencer left me standing by Sam's door, saying something about how he needed to go sign some papers. Since it was too dangerous to let Sam go back to her house, and Spencer had always been listed as Sam's emergency contact anyway, the decision had been made to let her go stay with them. I couldn't say I minded- I wanted her close. Plus, the Shays had military ties, and I knew that Colonel Shay wouldn't hesitate to call in a favor if he needed to. Sam would be safe with Spencer and Carly, I knew that for sure.<p>

I realized I was still standing in the hallway, being a complete pansy about everything when I knew good and well that the girl I loved was in there and needed me. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

I found Sam asleep, all snuggled up in her hospital bed. All the tubes in her hands were gone, though her wrists were still wrapped in gauze and her upper body was decorated with little circular bandaids, making her look like she was polka-dotted or something else much less grim than the truth. Instead of a hospital gown, she was wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama pants decorated with cartoon pictures of dancing hams. A gift from Carly, I figured. I crept in quietly and sat in the chair next to her. She looked so peaceful in sleep, all the lines of sorrow and worry smoothed out of her face. I didn't really want to wake her up; I figured she needed her rest, so I settled for reaching out and gently taking one of her hands, softly running my thumb along the ridge of her knuckles. She stirred a little at my touch, and I held my breath, waiting to see if she would wake. Sure enough, she did, yawning and blinking slowly.

"Carly?" she asked. "Carls, is that you?"

I gripped her hand a little tighter. "No, sweetheart, it's me. It's Freddie."

She looked confused for a second, and kept blinking, like she was trying to push the remainder of sleep away. Must have been a strong sedative, I thought.

"Freddie?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Sam," I replied.

She used her free hand to shove herself into a sitting position on the bed before leaning so close toward me that our noses almost touched. "You're here," she breathed. "But I thought- those cops, they grabbed you, they took you away from me- I thought for sure you were in deep shit and weren't coming back-"

"It was all a misunderstanding, baby," I reassured her, cupping her cheek in my hand and lacing my fingers into her hair. She softened a bit, pressing her face into my palm; I knew she liked having her hair touched.

She looked down at our entwined hands and started playing with my fingers. "What's going to happen to me now?" she asked softly, in a voice that I swear broke my heart on the spot.

"You're going to go stay with Carly and Spencer for awhile," I answered. "The police are out looking for your dad right now, they're gonna find him-"

Her eyes widened, the bright blue of her irises blazing into mine with more intensity than I'd ever seen. "But- no, no, he- he said he'd kill me if I ever told anyone! I have to go, I have to find him before they do-" she pulled her hand away from mine and tried to stand up, wincing as she did so; her stitches must have been pulling at her.

I gently placed my hands on her shoulders and guided her back down onto the bed. "Sam, listen to me, okay?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, still staring me down, but too woozy from the sedative to try and really fight me. If she'd been able to, she would have been long gone.

I took both of her hands in mine. "Remember that conversation we had in the car the other day? About how I'm an enormous, nubby nerd and I'm usually right?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I remember."

"Okay, then. Here's what's going to happen: you're going to go home with Spencer and Carly. You are going to be safe there, and I'll be right across the hall if you need me. The police are going to find your dad, he's going to go back to jail, and he will never be able to hurt you again. And you are going to be okay, Sam. I _promise_. And I never break a promise. All right?"

She nodded. "Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I know it took forever and a day for this update, and I really do apologize for that. You've all been so awesome, reading and commenting on this story, and I appreciate it. I'm a college student and life just gets in the way sometimes. In any case, I do hope you enjoy this update.

I'm planning on ending this story relatively soon- maybe about ten more chapters, and I have an idea for a sequel that I think could be pretty interesting and fun to write. It'd definitely be angsty. :) If that's something you think you'd be interested in reading, please make sure to let me know!

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

Oh, and by the way, reviews make me a very happy camper. Just throwing that out there.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Chapter 28:**_

_**2AM, and She Calls Me Cause I'm Still Awake.**_

_**(Freddie's POV)**_

After I finally managed to calm Sam down, and the doctor had come in to check her stitches and make sure she didn't rip any open, I discreetly told the nurse what had happened, and she'd agreed to add something to Sam's cocktail of pain medication that would help her sleep. I didn't want her to have any nightmares or anything while I wasn't there, and besides, she needed to get some rest. Once the nurse had brought Sam her pills and a little cup of apple juice to wash them down with, we'd talked for a little while, just minor chitchat, dancing around the obvious issues, neither of us willing to mention the gigantic elephant in the room. It just seemed so overdone, and while it was definitely a problem and not one that we could avoid forever, I could tell that she was tired of talking about it, could hear it in the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes. This whole experience had brought us closer together in the strangest of ways, and even though I absolutely wished that none of this had ever happened to her, I couldn't help but be oddly grateful for the intimacy it had given us. Sam and I had always been on different levels of the same plane of existence, running parallel to each other, but never intersecting, and, now, we had. She had been broken down bit by bit until she was almost nothing, and it was amazing to me that she not only let me see her like that, but that she _wanted_ me there. She was letting me in. She was allowing me to not only see her shattered parts, but to help fuse them back together into something logical and cohesive and stronger than before. She was trusting me to help her recover, and I wasn't going to take that for granted.

Somewhere in the midst of a conversation about the new flavors they were getting in at the Groovy Smoothie, I felt her grip on my hand slacken, and when I looked over at her, I could see that she'd fallen asleep, blonde eyelashes resting on the curve of her cheek, her mouth slightly open in a slack-jawed 'o'. The lines of pain and worry that had carved their way into her features over the past couple of days had all smoothed themselves out, and she looked completely peaceful, which was something I hadn't seen in her in quite awhile. I smiled to myself as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time. I knew it was way past visiting hours, but the access badge the doctor had given me after the fiasco with the security guards ensured that I could get in whenever I wanted. Still, it was getting pretty late, and with all the time that I'd spent here lately, I hadn't been getting much rest, and my body was starting to rebel against me. I definitely needed to go home and go to bed. Looking back at Sam, I gently squeezed her hand to make sure she actually was asleep. She was out cold. I stood up and carefully pulled her blanket up over her so she wouldn't get cold, then kissed her forehead before flicking the light off and tiptoeing out of the room.

The nurses in the hall greeted me by name as I walked by, and one of them, Janelle, promised me that she'd keep an eye on Sam throughout the night and keep me in the loop on the off-chance that anything changed. I thanked her gratefully, promising to bring by a box of doughnuts for them when I came back in the morning. Walking outside, I got in my car and drove home, trying not to think too much- I'd been trying to keep my cool throughout this entire situation, and even though it was difficult and thinking about what happened to Sam bothered me to the very depth of my being and stirred up feelings of anger and just utter _rage _that I hadn't even known I was capable of, I knew I had to be strong for her- and immediately went to bed, and my dreams were filled with doughnuts and elephants.

The next day was a Saturday, thankfully, and so I didn't have to worry about school or anything. Still, I rolled out of bed bright and early, wolfed down some french toast sticks and orange juice in the kitchen, and drove to the hospital, but not without stopping off at a bakery to pick up some pastries for the nurses like I'd promised.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot of Seattle General, I saw Spencer's van parked in the same lot. I knew it was his, because it _itself_ is a sculpture- once, a couple of years ago, he'd bought several cases of orange push-up popsicles, and Carly, Sam, and I had had to eat ourselves sick so that he could have the empty containers to glue to the van. When he'd finished, the entire vehicle was covered in waxed paper cylinders, and when we'd asked him why he decided to do that, he'd simply shrugged and asked, "Why not?"

I laughed to myself as I clipped my badge to my shirt pocket and climbed out of the car to head into the hospital. I greeted the nurses at the desk when I dropped off their doughnuts, and Sam's night nurse, Janelle, came over just as I walked in.

"Hey, Freddie," she smiled, grabbing a doughnut. She looked exhausted, not to mention a complete mess. Her brown hair was yanked up in a high ponytail with a few strands falling out and her purple scrubs were hopelessly wrinkled, but her green eyes were kind as usual.

"Hey, Janelle," I replied. "So, um, how is she today?"

Janelle sighed. "We've got her pain under control, and she's on antibiotics just in case there's any lingering infection in those burn wounds. But she's doing well. They're actually letting her go today."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good, right? If she's well enough to go home, then..." I trailed off.

"I mean, _medically, _she's going to be just fine," Janelle replied, taking a bite out of her doughnut. "As I'm sure you know, we see a lot of teenagers here. They get flack all the time for doing stupid stuff and nearly killing themselves, but they're remarkably resilient. They can bounce back from almost anything, and Sam's definitely no exception. She's one of the strongest patients I've ever had. But just because she's healing outside, that doesn't mean she's the same way in here." She patted her heart. "Judging from everything that happened, she's been under a lot of stress for a long time, and it's gonna take her awhile to get over all that psychological trauma. It's not gonna be easy."

My heart sank a little. I knew Janelle was right, but it was still kinda hard to hear. Sam and I had barely acknowledged our feelings for each other before all of this had happened, and I wondered what was going to happen to us now. I couldn't expect her to- I don't know, be in a _relationship _or anything while she was still so messed up, but she still _needed _me, and, God, this was a clusterfuck if I'd ever seen one.

"Freddie?"

I blinked, coming out of my little trance. Janelle was eyeing me curiously. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I assured her, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Just thinking."

"Anyway," she continued, "As I was saying, it's not gonna be easy, but I know she can do it. She's going to be okay. It might take her awhile, but she will. By some miracle, all the crap that she's been through hasn't completely broken her. She's still got the capacity for love. It might take you awhile to get to it, but you'll get there."

I wasn't sure I heard her right. "Um, what?" I asked, shifting my weight uncomfortably.

Janelle smiled at me. "Freddie, I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at her and how you're always here checking up on her. I've seen how all her tension just goes away whenever you walk into the room. I know you love her. Hell, Stevie Wonder could see that. And, trust me, she loves you too. Just don't push it. Give her some time."

I smiled, sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck. "So it's that obvious, huh?"

"_No,_ I'm just remarkably perceptive," she teased sarcastically, patting my shoulder.

I laughed. "So, is she awake yet?" I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't; it was only around nine in the morning, and Sam was notorious for sleeping late.

Janelle nodded, polishing off the rest of her bear claw and licking a stray sprinkle off her fingertip. "She's up. I already got her to shower and I changed her bandages and got her dressed. Spencer's just signing her discharge paperwork at the main desk, and then he's got to meet with the resident psychologist to arrange her therapy appointments, but he should be done in..." She paused to look at her watch. "...Oh, I'd say about twenty minutes. Your other friend is around here somewhere, too, but I think she might've gone downstairs to get a cup of coffee. She didn't seem too pleased about being up this early. As for me," she yawned, "My shift ended ten minutes ago, so I'll be heading home to sleep. You can go on in and see her now if you'd like."

I nodded. "Thanks, Janelle. For, um... for everything." I said the last word with careful emphasis, and I could tell that she got the message.

"You're welcome, Freddie," she said softly.

"Have a good day. Or... enjoy your sleep, I guess."

She laughed lightly. "Oh, I will. Believe me."

Nodding, I turned on my heel and headed down the hall to Sam's room. When I opened the door, I saw her sitting crosslegged on her bed with her back to the door. She didn't turn around, so I figured she must have her earbuds in or something; it looked like she was clicking at her phone in her lap. Her hair was still wet from her shower, damp curls wrestled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and today she was wearing a pair of yoga pants, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie I recognized as being Carly's instead of her ham pajamas. I figured that they'd probably wanted to make sure she was comfortable and they didn't hurt her bandages or stitches or anything, but also that she still looked presentable enough to go out in public.

Stepping into the room, I walked around the empty bed that was closest to the door and edged closer to Sam, neatly approaching her from the side rather than the back so that she could see me coming in her peripheral vision- I didn't want to come up from behind her and startle her.

Seeing me, she tapped the screen on her phone once to pause her music and pulled her earbuds out before looking up at me. It was true, what Janelle had said; I hadn't noticed before, but watching Sam now, I could see her muscles visibly unclenching and her body relaxing. It was like I had some kind of sedative effect on her; like I was her drug. "Hey, Freddie."

"'Morning," I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets. "How are you feeling?"

"A little woozy," she answered, winding the cord of her earbuds around her PearPhone. "Pain meds are some serious shit. I told them I didn't want them, but they said I'd be in too much pain if I didn't take them and I couldn't leave if I didn't cooperate, so I took them." She shrugged. "They make you feel kinda high, you know, like everything's floating or something. Guess that's why my mom loved them so much." She eyed me expectantly, and I realized that she was trying to be funny. Sam'd been on such a different level the past few days, letting all her walls down without much choice in the matter. She had to be feeling weird about having been seen so vulnerable, and so was cracking jokes, testing the waters, trying to get her old spunk and personality back.

I laughed, and she followed suit, her face breaking into a relieved smile. "Yeah, you're probably right," I agreed, dropping myself into my usual chair by her bed. "Where's Carls?"

"Oh, Queen Shay went down to the cafeteria in search of a latte. A morning person she definitely is not. She was yawning so much when she and Spencer got here that you'd think she'd been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, like you're one to talk, Princess Puckett. You sleep so much that I'm frankly surprised you know what sunshine is," I teased.

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, popping me in the shoulder with her fist. It didn't hurt, but I grabbed my arm like it had, widening my eyes to almost cartoonish levels in mock surprise.

"Punching people isn't how we make friends, Samanther."

She laughed, a little louder this time. "Yeah, cos we're _totally _friends, Fredwardo."

I felt my smile falter a bit at her words and the old nickname she'd just whipped out of nowhere. Oh, God, what if things were going to just go right back to the way they were? I couldn't-

I was stopped by a fingertip poking hard against my collarbone. "Hey, chill, okay? Don't make that kicked puppy face at me. I was just kidding."

Fire. My face was on fire. Damn. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I said coolly.

She smiled at me again, and it lit up her entire face. Her eyes were bright, happy. It was a wonderful thing to see. "_Sure. _Anyway, like I was saying, I was just kidding. I've known you since the third grade, dude. I wouldn't have put up with you for that long if I couldn't stand you."

"Oh, well, _thanks,_" I replied with mock appreciation, crossing my arms.

"Shut up. Of course we're friends. Maybe..." she cast her eyes down, picking at a loose edge of tape on her bandaged wrist. I was surprised to see a blush rise on her chest, creeping its way up her neck until even her tanned face was flushed pink. "Maybe even... something... more?" She looked up at me timidly, biting the corner of her lip, blue eyes full of questions.

I blinked in surprise. After talking to Janelle, that was the last thing I expected to come out of Sam's mouth. She'd told me she liked me before, and maybe we had the beginning of a "thing", but I'd figured that'd all be shot to hell after everything she'd been through. But here she was, after going through hell and back, still hoping, still wanting to be with me. And maybe it wasn't the right time or place and maybe I should've done it differently or waited or something, but in that moment I was looking at her and she was beautiful and I knew I loved her and nothing was going to change that. So, I leaned over and kissed her very gently on the lips, my hand carefully cupping the side of her face, thumb against her temple and fingers tracing the waves in her damp hair. And she seemed a little surprised at first, but quickly gave into it, tipping her chin up and kissing me back.

I broke it first, tearing my lips from hers so I could kiss her nose and then her forehead.

"Yeah," I said simply, sitting back in my chair and taking one of her hands. "Something more."

* * *

><p>The doctors had told Carly, Spencer and I privately that Sam needed to return to a life of as much normalcy as possible to keep her from thinking too much about what had happened- she'd get enough of that in therapy. So after Spencer got Sam all checked out and packed into his monstrosity of a van, we'd all met back up at Bushwell. I spent the entire day at Carly's with her and Sam, who in turn spent most of her time at my side, holding my hand or threading her arm through mine. Carly definitely noticed the new closeness between Sam and I- when we were watching SplashFace videos on the computer downstairs, Sam was perched on the stool next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Carly caught my eye and looked from me to Sam and back, raising her eyebrows. I smiled sheepishly and shrugged a little, and she just smiled and nodded, not pressing any further. We ended up having a pretty low-key day, just sitting in Carly's room, fishing for magnetic fish in her glass coffee table and watching movies on her flatscreen, and Spencer had made us spaghetti tacos for dinner before we all watched a marathon of Celebrities Underwater together.<p>

"So that was our seventh episode," Carly yawned around midnight. "And as much as I enjoy watching D-list celebrities almost drown, I'm really tired, so I'm gonna go to bed." She heaved herself to her feet. "I'll be upstairs, Sam. Freddie, I'll see you tomorrow." She shuffled over to the staircase and started to head up to her room.

"Night, Carls!" I called at her retreating back.

"I think I'm gonna hit the sack, too," Spencer mumbled from his recliner. "I've got a sculpture to deliver next week and I have to get up early to work on it." He too got up and headed to his room. "Just lock up like usual on your way out, okay, Freddie?"

"Got it." I replied. I turned back to Sam, who was curled up on the couch beside me, her arm laced through mine and her head on my shoulder. She'd drifted off around our third episode, but had looked so serene that none of us had the heart to wake her up. Still, I had to get going, so I shifted around a little bit so I could try and rouse her. When I moved, she stirred a bit and tightened her grip on my arm, burying her head deeper on my shoulder, an action which just about melted my heart with how childlike and innocent and just plain _cute_ it was.

"Sam."

"Mmm."

"Sam, wake up. You've gotta go to bed."

"Mm. No."

I rolled my eyes and patted her knee. "Come on, Sam, you can't sleep down here by yourself, and I've gotta go home."

"You stay. I'll sleep here. Problem solved." she muttered, not bothering to open her eyes.

"You know I can't do that," I whispered, tucking a stray curl securely behind her ear. "My mom'll have a conniption. And what if she grounds me? Then I won't be able to see you and you'll _really _be screwed."

Sam sighed, a few strands of hair fanning out in front of her face with her breath. "Fine," she grunted, slipping her arm out of mine and sitting up. She grabbed her phone from beside her, where it was dangerously close to falling between the couch cushions, and tucked it in her pocket. "You'll come back tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," I replied. "Go to bed, Sam. You know you're tired."

She mock-pouted for a second before pointing to her forehead. "Goodnight kiss."

I laughed, leaning forward to peck her on the lips and then on her forehead. "There." I stood up and helped her to her feet. "Now, no more excuses. Goodnight. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

She rolled her eyes as she headed up the stairs. "Yeah. Or the nightmares."

* * *

><p>I'd left the Shays soon after that, carefully locking the door behind me, greeting the police officer that was standing guard outside before slipping into my apartment. My mom had already gone to bed, so I went quietly to my room, changed clothes, climbed between the sheets, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.<p>

I was rudely awakened later in the night by the feeling of my bed vibrating. I turned and looked at the clock on my bedside table. God, it was almost two in the morning. Groaning, I felt along the sheets until I found my phone, blinking and wincing as its fluorescent display nearly blinded me. I struggled to read it: "Incoming call from: Sam".

I felt myself snap to being fully awake and I quickly slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call. "Hello?"

Soft crying noises.

"Hello?"

"Freddie?" a voice whispered.

"Sam?" I asked. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I- I forgot to take my sleeping stuff and I just had the scariest nightmare," she sniffled, and her voice was so thick with sleep and tears that it made her sound like a frightened child. It was pitiful and it nearly broke my heart.

"Anyway," she continued, "Carly sleeps like the dead and Spencer locks his room at night so I didn't know what to do- I'm sorry I called you so late, I just..." she trailed off, voice drifting into quiet sobs.

"No, no, it's fine," I assured her as she kept whimpering. "Shh... it's okay, Sam," I soothed. "You're all right. No one's going to hurt you. It's okay. It's okay." I repeated that again and again, trying to comfort her, and maybe it worked or maybe she took her medicine and it made her drowsy again, but in any case, the sounds of her crying were eventually replaced with deep breathing, and I knew that she'd finally fallen asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So let me just start by saying that being in college actually completely sucks because you get so busy and wrapped up with schoolwork and friends that you completely neglect your loyal readers and forget about a story and when you finally remember it's been two months since your last update and you feel like utter shit for keeping them waiting for that long. I _promise _that won't happen again. Seriously. Expect at least biweekly updates from now on or you have my permission to come find me and bludgeon me with my laptop.

Anyway, the title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Breathe (2AM)" by Anna Nalick.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	29. Chapter 29

_**Chapter 29:**_

_**We Should Talk About It.**_

_**(Sam's POV)**_

"Sam, get up. You have to get ready for school." I could hear Carly bustling around, packing up her books and tidying up the room. "Seriously, come on. You might be okay with being late, but I have a perfect attendance record to keep. I love you, but I'm not about to ruin that just because you can't heave yourself out of bed."

"I'm not going," I muttered, my voice muffled.

"Come _on, _Sam," Carly sighed, trying to pull off the blankets that I had tucked up over my head. I reached up and clenched them tighter. She tugged as hard as she could, but even weakened as I was, I was still substantially stronger than her: the blankets didn't budge.

"Come on. It'll be fine," she promised, and I felt the bed shift as she plopped down on the mattress near my feet.

"I don't care," I mumbled into the pillow. "Not going."

"But-" she began.

"No."

"Why not?" Her tone was sharper than usual- she meant business.

I sighed heavily and flipped over onto my back, slowly edging the covers down a few inches so I could look her in the face. Her expression was strange, floating somewhere between extremely pissed-off and worried. I felt my heart soften a bit; Carly was about as threatening as a baby tiger.

"I just don't want to," I said quietly, casting my eyes back down and rolling the hem of the blanket in my hands.

Carly sighed again, heavier this time, and shifted over a few inches so she was perched right beside my hip. Reaching a hand out, she tugged the blanket out of my worrying fingers before I tore a hole in it, and when she spoke again, her voice was much gentler. "But _why, _Sam? Tell me. Please," she pleaded. "Just talk to me. I just want to understand."

I'd been staring at the covers tucked around my waist, memorizing the purple chevron pattern that was woven through them, trying to avoid looking at her for as long as possible. Her voice was so heavy with genuine emotion that it almost made my heart hurt, and when I finally did meet her eyes, I could see that they were gleaming with unshed tears. Dammit. Carly had a lot of heart. More than I remembered most of the time. She'd always caught a lot of crap for her daffodility, for being so girly and fragile that she seemed like she could snap in a good gust of wind. It was no secret to me that a lot of our classmates had no idea why we were even friends, why I'd take the time for her or why she'd bother with someone like me, but I never expected them to understand. What they didn't know was that we balanced each other out; I got her to loosen up, take risks, laugh, be spontaneous, and in return she'd always been there for me, keeping me grounded, listening, caring, smothering me with the kind of compassion that I'd never gotten from my own family. Lately, I'd been so wrapped up in trying to push everything away and clinging to Freddie that I'd almost forgotten her. Sometimes it was hard for me to remember or even believe that being best friends was a two-way street, and that I meant just as much to her as she did to me. What had happened with my dad might have seemed like it was just my problem, but I was starting to realize that it had a ripple effect on everyone around me, including Carly. She'd been through a lot, too; I was sure the doctors had told her that I'd been lucky to make it. She could have lost me, and now here she was, squeezing my hand, chocolate eyes thick with the threat of crying, just trying to get me to _talk _to her, and I was shutting her out, bricking my walls back up without a second thought. I swallowed hard. The last thing I'd wanted was to hurt her.

"I just..." I cleared my throat, trying to figure out just how to phrase what I was trying to say. Words had never been my strong suit, and the right ones to tell her what she needed to know were definitely not coming easily. "If I... if I go, then everyone is gonna see all _this_," I paused, gesturing to my healing burns and still-bandaged wrists. "And they're going to want to know what happened, aren't they?"

"You've gone to school beat up before, Sam-"

"Yeah, but never as bad as this," I reminded her. Her face fell a little, and I could tell that she knew I was right. "It's pretty obvious that none of this came from some schoolyard scuffle or fighting an old lady over the last ham at Hey, Food!, don't you think? Someone clearly... _did_ this to me, and it's bad enough having to walk around knowing what happened without having to deal with all of our nosy classmates pointing and whispering, too."

Carly nodded, a little deflated. "I just- I really wanted you to come back with me today," she said slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I guess I just want everything to be the way it was, you know? I want... I want everything to be okay again, and I guess in my warped little mind I figured that we'd just go back to school and fall back into our routines like nothing ever happened." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sam. It wasn't right to put all of that on you, especially not now." She exhaled, and I could see her skin blanching where she was digging her fingernails into her arms. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "It was selfish and silly of me."

"No," I said as soothingly as I could, leaning forward to pat her shoulder, watching in horror as a single tear slid down her cheek. "Listen, Carls, you're the least- the least selfish person I know, okay?" She blinked, eyes still bright, looking at me dubiously. "No, I mean it. If anything, _I'm _the one who's being selfish. I'm the one who's too much of a baby to go to school and face everyone looking like this. That's not your fault." I sat up, wincing a little as my stitches pulled with the sudden motion. "You're my best friend in the entire world, Carly," I assured her. I was a little surprised at the sappiness of my own words, but I plowed ahead anyway. She needed to hear this. "You've proved to me time and time again what it means to be a real friend, and this... _situation _is no exception." I slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "And I know that when I finally do go back to school, I'll have you by my side, and that's honestly the only thing that's making me want to go back at all."

Carly half-laughed, half-sniffled, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "You'll have Freddie, too," she sighed. She glanced at me quickly, once and then away again, but not before I saw the flicker of mirth shoot through her eyes. I couldn't help but grin. That was so typical of Carly.

"Yeah," I groaned, swatting her on the knee as she giggled and made kissy-faces at me. "I'll have him, too."

Carly quit laughing and looked up at me again, the playfulness gone from her gaze. "You guys really care about each other, don't you?"

I paused a moment before answering. Actually, since I'd gotten out of the hospital, I'd been thinking about that very same thing- if we did, or if our entire relationship was just borne out of me needing him and him happening to be in the right place at the right time. I couldn't help but wonder if Freddie's and my dynamic would be different if none of the stuff with my dad had happened, but the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that our feelings would've developed regardless. I'd liked him before everything had gone down, and I knew that I still did; the intensity of my feelings was just expedited a bit.

"Yeah," I replied, ducking my head shyly. "Yeah, we really do."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>A quick, short chapter to get things transitioning to where I need them to be, plus some bonus Cam cuteness because I couldn't help myself. The next chapter will be significantly longer, told by a character we haven't heard from yet, and- oh, you didn't think I was done with the angst yet, did you? :)

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Stay Stay Stay" by Taylor Swift.

I hope you enjoyed it! As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated. :)


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